Volume 29 · Number 1 · Fall 2011
Band-uh aid
A former stuntman recalls how joining the Aggie Band-uh made his college experience more upbeat.
I couldn't play a single note on any type of musical instrument, but that did not deter the Cal Aggie Marching Band from welcoming me into their fold. In fall 1973, I joined the band as a stuntman, moving ladders and props into position during the halftime shows. For me, the timing was perfect.
I had been feeling lost, despite living on campus with thousands of other people. I longed for my high school sweetheart, whom I hadn't seen in more than three years. It seemed strange to me that I would feel so alone in an environment offering so many social opportunities. But a revelation appeared to me in the bleachers at Toomey Field during a football game against the University of Nevada, Reno—the Cal Aggie Marching Band that was sitting right next to me. Mesmerized by the band, I wondered if it might be the community and companionship I so sorely needed.
Steve Twomey '75
After the game, I followed the band out of the stadium and approached the director to ask if they had a place for someone with no musical experience. To this day I am not sure what I expected him to say, but desperate times lead to desperate measures. My despair turned to delight when the director told me that they needed a stuntman. He smiled at my obvious glee. The next week I was on the band bus headed for Humboldt State University for an away game.
On the bus, I felt a sense of peace and belonging. As we sang time-honored songs and chants, I felt that I was already a part of this motley group of musicians. At that moment, I realized the band had come to my rescue.
We arrived in Arcata in late afternoon, with just that evening to practice on the Lumberjacks' field before the next day's game. But there was a problem. At first, none of us could locate the switch to turn on the lights. I found the switch first—inside an unlocked box on one of the light poles, and flipped the lights on. Cheers of admiration rang out as light flooded the field. I had achieved instant hero status with the band.
Driving back to Davis after the game, the bus stopped often, at wineries and at cafés. I'm sure we were a sight to behold. Even though we were a diverse group—both "long hairs" and "crew cuts"—we were a tight community; we sang and chanted everywhere we went.
My favorite ritual was the song we performed after every home football game. We would solemnly march from Toomey Field to the band room in the Music Building—slowly down East Quad Avenue, past North Hall, South Hall and Olson Hall—singing "Away With Rum (The Song of the Temperance Union)." Leaves crushed beneath my feet and I could smell autumn in the air. I hoped this moment would somehow last forever. I had so much pride in this band that had accepted me into their small society.
At least once a year I drive up to Davis to rekindle my band memories. After a football game, I'll follow the band members back to the band room while they slowly march, singing that same song: "We're coming, we're coming, our brave little band. On the right side of temperance we do take our stand. . . . Away, away with rum, by gum. With rum, by gum, with rum, by gum!"
As I look at the band ahead of me, it is as if time is standing still. And for a moment, everything seems just like it did 36 years ago. I hear the same sounds, feel the same emotions, and smell the same aromas in the crisp fall air.
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