Band Marks Three Musical Decades

A long time ago--30 years to be exact--spectators at Harvard football games were entertained by the University Banjo and Mandolin Clubs. In 1919, with the season already underway, a group of musicians decided that Soldiers Field fans needed a little more pop and a hand might add the needed virility to the then all-male cheering section.

There aren't any more Banjo and Mandolin Clubs, but there haven't been any complaints yet for the Harvard Band now ranks among the nation's finest, either on the gridiron or on the concert stage.

Growing, Growing...

Only 45, men filed into Sanders Theater for the first rehearsal, and only after notice had been placed asking for former members of the wartime Regimental Band to come too. And, since there was no equipment available, musicians were expected to bring their own instruments and music stands.

Arrangements were made with the HAA for seats that turned out to be in section 35, the same place occupied by today's band. With Frederick L. Reynolds '20, directing, the group played at its first game on October 2, 1919, while Harvard beat Boston College 17-0. Though they made only one trip away that year--to Princeton--the band played at every home game thereafter.

During that first season it shared playing time with the Banjo and Mandolin Clubs, which had combined under one management, and the Glee Club, all sitting in the same section.

Finances and Tea

Financial worries have plagued the band throughout its history and they started early. From the beginning there was no money for essentials, so a series of tea dances was organized., Wearing dark coats and pants the budding band's members performed at these which were held in the Union.

For the season's high point, the Yale game, the band had 80 members, but 35 of these didn't play. It was a good show, though. During the early winters of the organization's career, two dance bands were formed to travel around the country raising funds, and upon their success depended the band's life the next season.

At the most there were 60 regular members during the years to 1929. Sometimes, however, improvisation was necessary. At one game, for instance, violins, borrowed from the dance orchestras, were brought into the stands to play missing clarinet parts.

And Into the Stretch

By 1929 there were usually 80 or 90 men in the stands on Saturday afternoons. Among them were Malcolm H. Holmes, '28, the band's present director, and Leroy Anderson '28, now a famous arranger. Holmes banged the base drum at Soldiers Field, but played the violin in the orchestra at other times.

The year before the band obtained the huge base drum now wheeled in at half-time during games. As a present to the grow-organization, the Associated Harvard Clubs presented it at a meeting in Philadelphia in 1928. According to present values the drum is worth between eight and ten thousand dollars.

It takes the hide of one whole calf to make each head, and several years of seasoning are necessary to make the drum playable. In twenty years the monster percussion instrument has become practically the band's trademark so, though the high cost of transportation is prohibitive--always over $100--it is usually carried to all nearby games as well as Soldier's Field.

Of Thee--Wintergreen

Until 1930 the band had never attempted any formations on the field. That year, however, with almost 100 members participating it was possible to spell out "Harvard" and "Veritas." Guy V. Slade '32, drill master at that time, began a program of regular field drills for half-time periods after that.

Although he had graduated, Anderson continued to work with the band, directing and, at times writing and arranging music. For the Dartmouth game in 1932, he made his first arrangement of college tunes in medley form.

The next week, Harvard played Army. Since the Dartmouth Medley had met with great crowd approval, Anderson decided to present another. He took a tune from the George Gershwin hit musical "Of Thee I Sing", mixed in well-known melodies from Ivy League college songs, and produced "Wintergreen." It met with so much success that it has since become the closest thing to a theme song the band has in its repertoire.

Under a succession of competent heads, the band continued, but only as a good football season group. No attempt was made to branch out, and with the last strains of "Harvardiana" after the Yale game each playing year came to an official end.

For their greatest show up to today, the Tercentary Celebration in 1936, the band played for the first time Anderson's specially arranged Harvard medley. "Tercentenaria." At the closing celebration, the musicians climbed aboard a barge, and introduced the piece to cheering onshore crowds while sailing down the Charles River past the Andering sky made it one of the most spectacular productions of the decade.

Michigan saw the band, which made its longest trip up to that time, in 1938, when Harvard played at Ann Arbor. Help from the HAA and generous alumni sent the musicians, who up to 1937 had paid all their expenses out of their own pockets.

After war came to the nation, the band continued active for one year. 1942 was the last year that a civilian group played for the Crimson, however, for most of the musicians joined the Armed forces, and football as an official intercollegiate competition soon ceased at Soldiers Field.

Peace and Pants

Thus, when reorganization began in the Spring of 1946, the band had no instruments. Of course they also had no uniforms, no music and, since the officers were all undergraduates, they had no records and didn't know anyone who could help them. There were, however, a few recordings lying down in Paino music building--they had been made before the war.

Walter J. Skinner '48, newly elected manager, tried selling the records at a dollar apiece. He got exactly $18. With this he bought stationery and sent out letters to alumni. From the return of $300 he bought more stationery, sent out more letters and received enough money to buy pants for his bandsmen. Skinner also persuaded Mal Holmes to become conductor. Mal, and to hear members tell it, the pants, have been here ever since.

New Yorker Nicknames

More money from contributions enabled the band to make several trips that fall, including one to Princeton. It was here that a New Yorker correspondent heard, saw, and went home to write that the Harvard Band was "the best in the business," a nickname that has become synonymous with the Harvard Band, and, to most students and alumni, a correct evaluation.

Not only did the band continue to play after the season, recording the Ivy League Album in December, but they started their first series of Spring concerts, under Holmes's direction.

Almost put out of business, by the failure of the Virginia concert trip in 1947, the band came back in time to make every game away during the 1948 season. On their way back from Virginia the musicians had played on the capital steps in Washington, almost missing their train home.

This year's band is the largest in Harvard history, numbering over 150 members. It is also probably the best ever here, since, with a few more rehearsals it may even out-play the 1949 band that made the "Half Time" album last year. Not one musical error was made on the recordings; Wintergreen was re-recorded when slight defeets showed in the first cutting so the album would be as near perfect as possible.

While undergraduates were electing Joseph J. Borgatti '45 to replace Skinner in 1947, and Paul B. Finney '50 as manager in 1948, an alumni organization, started in 1948, also elected officers. As president Thomas P. Howard '48 was named, and it is he who arranged the alumni show for today.

This season got off to a bad start when plans for a trip to Stanford failed, through no fault of a committee composed of Borgatti and William J. Reinhardt '45, drum major, who worked all during the past summer and missed their goal by only a small margin.

Many alumni refused to accept their returned Stanford contributions, Borgatti says; this money goes into an improvement fund for use in case of financial troubles.

Now, no matter what, they'll never have to sell that big drum, or the heavy upright base drum. The base is the world's largest, made of pure brass and priecless today. The band bought it for $100 and costs of transportation, from a company that it took it after-John Philip Sousa's band came to an end.

And, like the Harvard band, it has become worth more and more with the passing of time. It can't grow any bigger, or get any better, however, but then, as far as this season's football spectators are concerned, neither can the band.