Sound Off!

The following is a transcription of a booklet that was produced in commemoration of the Brown Band’s 50^th anniversary in 1974. Authorship is unknown and assumed to be anonymous.

In the fall of 1924 a tall, blond Freshman sat with a group of classmates in the old wooden football stands of Andrews Field preparing to watch his first Brown football contest. Before the kickoff he turned to ask a Sophomore acquaintance when the Brown Band would put in an appearance.

He was told that the band at Brown in those days consisted of an informal group of musicians who were called out only on the occasion of student rallies and celebrations on the campus. This surprised him since he had prepared for Brown at the Peddie School in New Jersey where a marching band of some size was a regular feature of student life and he knew that football bands required long rehearsals and careful planning.

The Freshman was Irving Harris ’28, of New York City who returned after the game to his room in Maxcy Hall with his equally puzzled roommate, Joseph L. Strauss, Jr. of Chicago who had also roomed with him at Peddie and was accustomed to the out-size Big Ten musical groups that entertained in the Midwest. Both knew that the University was completing a stadium on Elmgrove Avenue to be dedicated the following season with an all at-home schedule. It seemed inappropriate that the visiting bands of rival colleges would dedicate the new stadium without a Brown Band to represent the host University.

The Leader Hid His Freshman Cap

The following week Irving Harris sought out the Senior who was designated in the Bear Facts, “the Freshman Bible,” as the elected leader of the band. He found him to be the head also of a student dance group with little time remaining for working with a college band. However, he promised to call a rehearsal soon. When notice to report failed to materialize, Irv Harris, undaunted, asked permission from the nonplused Senior to call the rehearsal himself. His roommate, who was trying out for the Daily Herald, accommodated by running a short story announcing the organization of a University Band at Brown.

It was, therefore, in early September 1924, just 50 years ago this fall that a small group of student musicians gathered in a room in the Brown Union, then Rockefeller Hall, now Faunce House. They formed the nucleus of the Brown University Band -- without music, with few instruments, no uniforms, but a great deal of nerve.

Not surprisingly, the Senior leader failed to show up and a quick glance at the caps on almost every head revealed that this was indeed a purely Freshman enterprise. Harris sized up the situation quickly, thrust his own cap into his rear pocket, and stepped to the front of the group. He stated that this was merely a meeting to register for the band, asked each person present to hand in a slip with his name, dormitory and instrument; and requested them to report at the same place two days later.

Any reader aware of the lowly status of Freshmen in those days will wonder at the temerity of Irving Harris in courageously going ahead with his plans. He lettered posters announcing the formation of the “Big Brown Band” which he tacked up on trees on the Middle Campus, now the College Green. He followed up the notice by walking at night around the campus where he listened to any sounds of music emanating from dormitory windows. When he heard a brass or a wood wind instrument, he would drop in to the musician’s room. If the man was a Freshman, Harris would order his unsuspecting classmate to report for rehearsal.

From the Other Classes, Nothing But Laughter

Meanwhile, members of the three upper classes considered the whole enterprise a good joke. In the beginning, no one other than a Freshman dared to risk the humiliation of joining up. But Harris, a fine pianist and music-lover in his own right, raced up to the realities of the situation in that he knew, first, the initial rehearsal would require a set of band music, and secondly, some percussion instruments.

He solved the first problem by purchasing with his own funds several orchestrations from a local music store. He then learned that somewhere on campus was an old bass drum and several marching drums used by the old Brown Naval Reserve unit in World War I. By clever detective work these were discovered in an obscure corner of Lyman Gymnasium. He smuggled them, dusty but useful, to the Union.

The second meeting of the group blossomed into a full-fledged rehearsal with Irv Harris leading the group with a newly-purchased baton, hastily borrowed music stands from the orchestra room holding the new music, and the Freshman musicians laboring manfully through the martial strains of a march.

With no recognition other than ridicule from the rest of the College, the little group of about 25 musicians rounded into some semblance of organization. This was just before the football team was to leave for the west to meet the University of Chicago at Stagg Field in an important intersectional contest which matched a strong Brunonian eleven against the Maroons who tied for the Big Ten title that season. The newspapers were full of stories about the game, and campus leaders at Brown had called for an All-College Rally to be held before Sayles Hall. They would march to the station to see the team off at 10 a.m.

The Mop-Handle Became a Baton

The night before, in a room in Maxcy Hall a long argument ensued between Irv Harris, his roommate and friends. They argued that the newly-formed band should be present at the send-off and play for the march downtown. Harris contended that his group had never marched as a group and knew only one selection well. As a matter of fact, the band wasn’t invited to take part and probably would not be welcomed by the cheerleaders and students.

His friends gradually made headway until finally Harris, in desperation, pointed out that he had no drum major’s baton; no band ever marched without the leader waving a stick. His roommate, who later became the band’s first student manager, quietly left the room and raided the cleaning closet at the end of the hall where he appropriated a mop-handle. Around the handle he ingeniously wound his bathrobe belt, which luckily was colored brown, fastened it with thumbtacks, and appeared triumphantly before the astonished group. His improvised drum major’s baton was complete with the brown cord and tassel, though sans the traditional ball at the bottom.

Irv Harris acknowledged all of this as a good try. But he still refused to commit his inexperienced group at such an important occasion. It was no wonder that he groaned when he was informed that a notice had already been placed on the front page of the Herald the following morning informing the college that the band would appear. Its members were asked to appear as early as possible in the rehearsal room before the start of the rally.

At 9:50 a.m. the next morning the bell in University Hall called all undergraduates to the Middle Campus, and they gathered in great numbers since the next classes had been cancelled. As the members of the band tuned up in the Union, a white-faced Irving Harris wanly looked out of the second-story window while cheerleaders led cheer after cheer from the steps of Sayles Hall. Finally, he decided to send the band down to the campus where it lined up for the first time in its brief history between Faunce House and Hope College, unnoticed by the students whose attention was directed toward Sayles Hall.

By this time, the campus rally was nearing its end and the cheerleaders ordered the student body to form a column of fours to march to the Union Station downtown to give the team its send-off. The Van Wickle Gates were opened, a traditional gesture unknown to the leader of the band, who was now being implored by his advisors to “sound-off.”

The Ordeal That Became a Triumph

As the head of the column of undergraduates neared University Hall, an overly-zealous drummer tapped out the well-known sound-off. Somehow the band gained momentum and stepped off. The head cheerleader, with an adaptability that deserves credit in the records, acknowledged the band’s existence with a wave of his megaphone, and Irv Harris, Freshman cap on his head, home-made drum major’s stick in his hand, headed for the Gates and the down slope of College Hill with most of the student body following.

Thus began the Brown University Band. A member of the first group said later: “I looked back when we got to the bottom of the Hill and started to pass the Hospital Trust Bank and as far as my eye could see stretching up College Hill were undergraduates all the way up and through the Gates. It was the largest turnout of students I have ever seen at Brown during my career.”

The Band played the same tune over and over, and luckily the going was downhill. As for Irv Harris, this was only his third week in Providence and he didn’t know the route to the station. If it hadn’t been for the traffic policemen in the downtown area who held back the inevitable crowds which gathered, Irv is sure he would have led the parade to the Albee Theater. But a lane was formed through which the bandleader led the procession.

Two recollections stand out most clearly about the first appearance of the Brown Band. First, after the cheers did away at the station and the train pulled away with the team, somehow the students seemed to fade away in groups. Only the band was left, breathless and alone. Secondly, it was not until a sportswriter on the Evening Bulletin pointed it out in his story that afternoon that the band was to learn that the single march it had laboriously rehearsed and played repeatedly was actually “Up the Street,” a famed Harvard football song.

However, the Brown Daily Herald the next day faithfully reported that the march was led by the Brown University Band. This in itself was recognition enough. What was soon to become one of Brown’s most popular student organizations was on its way.

Long and regular rehearsals followed and the Big Brown Band gradually gained more members, a real repertoire, and musical balance. Irv and his little group, unlike many undergraduate activities, took themselves seriously and were determined to succeed.

Doc Marvel Made a Deal with Them

With a student band at Brown seemingly an accomplished fact (at least that’s the way it seemed to Irv Harris), he was surprised that the Athletic Council under the iron hand of Dr. Fred Marvel viewed the new organization with less than complete acceptance. Having had years of experience with enthusiastic young student groups, Fred Marvel preferred to see just how permanent the new band was before he blessed it with full official recognition.

He made a bargain with the young musicians: if the band would play throughout the winter sports season, it could help dedicate the new baseball stadium -- Aldrich Field. It was not an easy bargain to keep. The band first played for the Freshmen-Sophomore sports night in January of 1925 in Lyman Gymnasium and then later for many basketball games where the membership of the band sometimes outnumbered the spectators at the game.

When the long winter ended, the new University Band had indeed earned the right to represent Brown at the ceremonies on Elmgrove Avenue at the first baseball game played on the new field.

A Nameless Hero with a Bass Horn

For the occasion, Irv Harris’ father had dug down in his pocket to purchase white duck trousers for the bandsmen. Their uniform further consisted of white shirts, black bow ties and sailor gob hats. Before the start of the game, the Brown baseball players lined up on the first-base line; the Yale players along the third-base line, and the band formed in right field behind first base.

At a signal from Irv, the band stepped smartly off behind the diamond with a route that was to take it to center field with a sharp left-turn behind second base when it was to march to the center of the infield, halt and play the national anthem. This being before the band had acquired a sousaphone, its largest instrument was a huge bass horn proudly carried by a chap who shall remain nameless. He marched in the second row on the outside file with his arms wrapped around his instrument. When the leader reached the point the band was to wheel to the left, each row turned obediently, half-stepped until all of its musicians were in line, and then moved in unison across the infield -- all, that is, except the bass horn player. Somehow, he missed the signal, and, being on the outside, he continued onward by himself toward left field.

A gale of laughter swept the stands as 39 pairs of white-trousered legs marched toward the pitcher’s box and a 40th stepped smartly along a lonely path into the outfield. To our nameless hero’s everlasting credit, when he realized his mistake, he wheeled in the right direction, marched all by himself back to the formation that had by now halted in position, and without missing a note, he stepped back into place.

After this beginning, perhaps the dedication ceremonies were an anti-climax. At any rate, the band achieved complete acceptance by the student body and the Athletic Council. Irv Harris took a conducting course at Columbia during the summer and planned an early return to Providence to scout the Freshman class and lead early rehearsals.

The Band Was Ready For the New Stadium

The new football stadium opened with impressive ceremonies in September, 1925 and Brown had on the field a truly representative student band which competed with distinction against its older and more experienced counterparts from Pennsylvania, Yale, Harvard, and Dartmouth. Without a flaw, the Brown Band successively played the Star Spangled Banner with each of the visiting bands and the football songs of its rivals. Only once did a slip occur. At the opening game, the band faced the Brown stands and played “Hail to the Chief” as the Governor of Rhode Island and his party took their seats.

Somehow, after the first chorus, half of the musicians started at the beginning and the other half repeated the chorus. As the band’s managerial staff -- now grown to two -- groaned in the stands, the wife of a Faculty member was overheard to remark, “My, isn’t the Brown Band great; it is actually harmonizing ‘Hail to the Chief’.”

After this, Irv Harris left nothing to chance and the band become one of the best trained and organized groups on the Hill. Throughout the balance of Irv’s years at Brown, the band appeared at every football game whether home or away. It was universally greeted with enthusiasm. Concerts were booked throughout the Spring to defray expenses of transportation. Perhaps the best acknowledgement of its success was the line that appeared in a newspaper advertisement in Philadelphia on the day of the Brown-Penn game. It read: “Football today at Franklin Field. Come early to hear the famed Brown Band.”

Preparation for the Unexpected

Irv Harris developed a regular program of procedure. He persuaded the cheerleaders to march in with the band in the opening parade; he formed the band in a semi-circle for half-time entertainment, and he scored for band rendition many of Brown’s songs that had passed into disuse. Particularly, he revived the Brown Victory March and taught it to the band. When someone dryly asked, “What for?.” he answered that he wanted the band ready for any eventuality.

Unwittingly, he proved to be a prophet. Early in the fall of 1926, the band made its first appearance in the Yale Bowl. The game ended in a Brown victory, and the band hurriedly formed on the gridiron after the final whistle. The musicians marched under the goalposts and all the way to downtown New Haven playing the Brown Victory March over and over. This was repeated each week as the Brown Iron Man eleven swept on to win game after game.

At the end of the football season in the Fall of 1927, the band marched to a position outside of the locker room at the Brown stadium and played “Auld Lang Syne” as a farewell to those players who were ending their college careers. It was also a goodbye to the band’s leader, who had found Brown four years previously without the traditional musical organization that adds so much to the spectacle of football. He had remedied this situation by organizing a group; a Freshman who, against overwhelming odds, perfected it single-handedly into a leading and famous student group.