1970 c - World Band Festival

Before participating in the World Band Festival, the band played two concerts. The first was in Leyden inside its cathedral, a fitting place for Elsa. The second was an outdoor concert in Margraten, site of the American Cemetery and Memorial for American soldiers who died in WWII.With the weekend came the festival. First came parade competition in which the band marched in parade formation around the oval of the runner's track. Next came the field show competition. Mr. Soyars had written a dance drill to the Saint Louis Blues March (Handy/Burgitt), comprised of such moves as the "Jackie Gleason Glide." And, away we went, able to medal in both competitions: bronze for the show, silver for the parade!

For the concert portion of the contest, the required piece, Introduction, Theme and Variations on Waar in Het Bronsgroen Eikenhout by Louis Toebosch, presented few challenges, beyond endurance (and pronunciation). Soyars wanted to showcase the band with the firey Carnival section of Reed's La Fiesta Mexicana, but the judges opted for the calmer Mass. The result? Bronze!

Other music played on concerts included

• Selections from Oliver (Bart/Leyden)
• Chimes of Liberty (Goldman)
• First Suite in Eb for Military Band (Holst)
• Elsa's Procession to the Cathedral (Wagner/Calliet)
• Saint Louis Blues March (Handy/Burgett)
• La Fiesta Mexicana (Reed)
• Man of La Mancha (Leigh and Darion/Erickson)
• Down, Down the Field (SU fight song)
  

Bandies board busses outside of the Hotel Willems-Kosters (D. Dow photo)	Leyden Cathedral, bandies head to first indoor concert. (D. Dow photo)
Concert at Netherlands American Cemetery, Margraten (D. Dow photo)	Leading the way in parade competition, Jaqueline S., Susan S., Suzanne S., and drum major Randall A. (D. Dow photo)
Bill G. and Jon K. wander among priceless Van Goghs. (D. Dow photo)	In the concert hall of Kerkrade (D. Dow photo)

Concerts originally scheduled in Milan and Florence, Italy, were cancelled, but the buses made their way over the Alps anyway. August snowball fights and film-loop switchback roads, unavoidable back then, are probably rare now, with the coming of alpine tunnels. Stops in Brunnen, Switzerland, and Lugano, Italy, provided unparalleled scenic beauty. But there was never a day on the road that didn't have "changements" due to scheduling miscalculations.

Narrow passage. (D. Dow photo)	Seeing the sights in Florence. (D. Dow photo)
In Concert at Margraten. (D. Dow photo)

1970 b - From Mob to Medalists 1

In the middle of the spring semester of 1970, M. Douglas Soyars, a professor of woodwinds in the School of Music, emerged as SU's new Director of Bands. He had only weeks to assemble and prepare the marching mob for competitions in the Netherlands. The band would compete in parade marching, field show, and concert competitions.

(Photo: On the first of many bus rides, Adrienne N. takes in the Dutch countryside..., or not. By D. Dow)

Soyars found an ex-Marine drill instructor, and on July 26th 75 student musicians assembled on campus for an intensive week of band camp. True to tradition, at least one was a ringer from another university. Many were incoming freshmen. But in the sweltering heat of the Syracuse summer, a marching band and a wind ensemble gradually began to coalesce. During the Saturday pre-departure Concert on the Quad, the uncanny tradition started: the musical climax to Elsa's Procession to the Cathedral (Wagner/Cailliet) brought forth brilliant rays of sun from a heavily clouded sky.



Ready or not, the group departed for the Netherlands on Sunday, August 2nd, on KLM flight 644.




After a day touring Amsterdam, the band headed to Kerkrade, in the southeast of Holland, site of the World Music Festival. Too large a group for local hotels, half the band stayed at the Hotel Willems-Kusters. It became known for its fresh groper (the manager).

1970 a - Status Quo Ante

For someone entering SU in the fall of 1968, the prospects were dazzling. It was off to the big time, from our small Saturday morning high school bands, off to join a huge band with recent bowl appearances to its credit. But to receive a letter from Director of Bands Lyle Babcock stating that a European concert tour was in the offing -- that was beyond belief!

I'd just spent the summer in Europe, on concert tour with a choir, singing reverently in the cathedrals of Koblenz, Trier, and Vienna. To go again in two short years? Incredible!

On meeting Mr. Babcock that fall, you'd have assumed that he'd been with SU for years, possibly nearing retirement, with a quiet southern dignity. What nearly no one knew is that he was a sudden replacement. Upperclassmen turned to each other saying "Where's Voltz?" Ed Voltz, Dr. Harwood Simmons' hand-picked successor, had committed suicide. Babcock, this gentleman from Southern Mississippi, was tapped to fill the void.

Looking back on it, how hard it must have been. Probably from a well-funded position with many assistants, Babcock was now nearly alone, save for two grad assistants. On the practice field, he'd frequently shout "At ease" through the bull horn when he meant "attention." His mild demeanor did not inspire confidence, and as the fall wore on he suffered massive desertions. This meant ad hoc rewriting of halftime performances on a daily basis.

Stories of that period abound. We had fun, but we were not at all good. The early sixties vintage uniforms were already shabby, and dated from the time when only men marched. Fitting the women was a nightmare. Insurrection was in the air, and the key pivot for national embarrassment of our director belonged -- to me.

It was to be on December 3, 1968 at a nationally televised game at Penn State (back when TV appearances were rare -- and they actually showed halftime performances) during our "Salt City" halftime show. After outlining a canal boat and then a tepee, we'd spell out "Salt City." Band student president Bill K. approached me during rehearsal to say, "You are the key person in the key squad. Pivot this way instead of that, and we can turn it into SHIT CITY."

I wasn't much into national humiliation, never mind that the charts traced each individual to a spot, meaning I could be traced as the culprit. Therefore, the drill went as designed. On that day, it was three degrees with a brisk wind. Reeds and hands froze well before the show's end. That was the limit of the treachery for that day.

Yet the efforts to remove Babcock continued into the following year, in that age of student activism. By the spring of 1970, he was gone, but his invitation to the World Band Festival in Kerkrade, Holland remained. But who would direct the band, now committed to perform in a few short weeks?

About Syracuse, its University, and its University Band

Syracuse, New York, is situated in the heart of New York State. If you visualize the state as a capital "T" rotated 90 degrees to the right, Syracuse would sit midway along the long stem. Interstate 90 runs east-west through the area, while Interstate 84 is the major north-south route through the center of the city. Even so, Syracuse developed relatively late among the cities of the former Erie Canal. So, while some towns in central New York boast older colleges, Syracuse developed as a commercial hub and its university was founded in 1870.

As students of SU history know, its founders endured economical hardships in the early years. Budgets were tight and spending always questioned. The tight-fisted approach necessarily continued well into the twentieth century. Evidence suggests that when the question of collegiate football was placed before SU's administrators, they balked at first.

If having a football team was up for hot debate, having a band was pretty much out of the question, as long as funding was concerned. Ultimately, SU's own iron Chancellor, James Roscoe Day, relented to student pressure, so long as the band funded itself. In 1901, the band was born, giving its first concert in Crouse College that May.

Self-funding was not an unusual approach. The Harvard Band is still funded with its own endowment and (theoretically) could survive the university's collapse. But SU is not Harvard, and this Ivy League funding model (as I call it) failed, as did the 'Varsity Band in 1904, not to be reborn until 1907. Funding would be a problem for SU's band until the 1970s. By then, the band would have its own budget in what I would call a more Big Ten funding model. Even so, this budget would fund one Director of Bands and two graduate students. Contrast this with the University of Pittsburgh which funded six full-time professor-level positions. For years, SU administrators would expect Big Ten results with Ivy League budgets. (The price, perhaps, of being situated between Ohio State and Harvard.)

The east-west highways, mentioned above, take one to the famous music schools in New York City and Boston, to Rochester's Eastman School, and beyond. The north-south highways take you to Cornell and Ithaca College, SUNY Stoney Brook, and SUNY Potsdam, with its immense opera house imposing on the surrounding landscape. Perhaps with these surrounding influences, or with the cost of music programs, Syracuse University has never chosen to be a serious competitor in offering music degrees. During the late 20th century, there was a small School of Music, catering mostly to keyboard and vocal musicians, but its large ensembles (orchestra, concert band, wind ensemble) have always relied on outside talent -- non-music undergraduates and even local high school musicians -- to fill out the instrumentation. The devolution of the school into something of less than a department has created a talent gap that might otherwise infuse SU bands with more people and more musicianship.

From its beginnings, the SU Band relied on "ringers" (outsiders) to fill the gaps. And, until 1970, it suffered criticism for periods of underachievement, the Kelly and Stith eras being notable exceptions.

About this blog

Finally technology permits us to post all we know on this subject, while allowing others to confirm, deny, or expand upon what I put here. I hope we can share memories and gather knowledge. It's all for the "bandies" who've contributed their time and talent over the years to make the Syracuse campus and ethos a better place.

Bands have a unique way of bringing together people of remarkable diversity, simply through the accident in their lives of having picked up a drum stick or some variation of wind instrument. The hard work becomes a bond, and life-long relationships result. My dad, a member of a local American Legion band, never paid for services. He knew a plumber, an electrician, a lawyer, an optician, all fellow bandies, who would provide services for at worst a deep discount. (He, in turn threw unforgettable parties.) Few if any volunteer organizations encompass such diversity.

And so it is and was at Syracuse University, where future teachers, biologists, broadcasters, librarians, politicians, engineers, artists, would all march together for a short time.

I begin this blog around the events of 1970, forty years ago (as this is written), which led to it's current sobriquet, "the Pride of the Orange."