I'm a Jayhawk

A salute to the traditions of the University of Kansas Marching Jayhawks.

Oct 08, 2022

This is the column you’ve all been waiting for: The real story of the University of Kansas Marching Jayhawks, crafted by an insider, who is not afraid to name names, and which will expose long-held secrets of this storied institution. Alright, you got me, that’s not my mission at all - I mean, we’re not talking about the self-proclaimed “Best Damn Band in the Land” (a/k/a “The Ohio State University Marching Band”), which has long featured the playful, script “Ohio,” with the “i” dotted by a sousaphone player, but has also been home to some pretty unsavory practices for years, including naked midnight marching, and a printed songbook containing lyrics which would make a longshoreman blush.

No, my experience marching as a member of KU’s marching band was much tamer, although I am reaching back more than forty years into my memory bank. In my opinion, the University of Kansas Marching Jayhawks have been quietly going about their business for over a hundred years now, and have built an enviable reputation as a world-class, performing marching band.

The business of crafting a successful Saturday afternoon show didn’t come easy, back then, and I’m certain that a tremendous amount of energy and effort continues to be invested today in the program.

The season started in a large band room in Murphy Hall, in late August, packed with several hundred musicians. Those early rehearsals were an “ear-opening” experience, as I had never performed in a band of that size - the music filled the room to overflowing. I think the band’s commitment to the musical performance aspect of its shows has served to cement its position as one of the best bands around.

Eventually, we made our way out to the practice field, located behind Oliver Hall, not far from Allen Fieldhouse. We spent time practicing within our own sections, and as a clarinet player, I was fortunate to have a fraternity brother, Jere Kimmel, as our section leader - Jere is simply one of the nicest guys you will ever meet.

We had printed charts detailing our movements during the pregame show, and each halftime show - I presume those tasks are now managed electronically, utilizing iPads and iPhones - hmm. . .maybe there’s a use-case for drones here? The grids relied upon the yard-lines every ten yards on the field, and the hashmarks containing the center of the field, and the sidelines to direct the movements of each band member. Once a year we marched and played at Arrowhead Stadium, the home of NFL’s Kansas City Chiefs, which featured more tightly-spaced hashmarks, requiring string to be placed on the field from end-zone to end-zone to mimic Memorial Stadium’s hashmarks - I hope that didn’t cause needless injuries to Chiefs’ players, tripping over that string during their games.

The band practiced for two hours every weekday afternoon, except Friday, and, oftentimes I arrived home afterward and collapsed from the heat - August and September in Kansas can be quite steamy. And, this was my first exposure to the marching band experience, because, as I am fond of repeating, my high school had disbanded its marching band in the early 1970’s, due to excessive weed - that is, high school students at New Trier East, in Chicago’s North Shore suburb of Winnetka, in the early 1970’s preferred to spend their free time smoking marijuana, rather than marching at football games - my daughter has long been amused by that take. Given that my KU Marching Band colleagues were veteran high school marching band members, and were mostly drawn from Kansas high schools, the obvious question which surfaces is: Was marijuana not available in Kansas in the early 1970’s? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

Ah well, on to game day. We were required to answer the bell Saturday morning at Memorial Stadium for a halftime show run-through. Once I was able to roust my trumpet-playing fraternity brother, Blake Post (not an easy feat, typically, due to his late nights), we headed to the stadium; the other TKE band member, Tag Worley, was not able to offer us a ride, inasmuch as he drove a VW Bug, and the entire vehicle was consumed by his bass drum - you remember those old pictures of college students packing themselves into VW Bugs? According to guinessworldrecords.com, the record is held by the Asbury University Emancipation Project, in Lexington, Kentucky, with twenty people; my guess at how many bass drums would fit in a VW Bug? One, based upon my exhaustive research of watching Tag stuff his bass drum into his car back then.

After rehearsal, we went home, and suited up to gather at the Chi-Omega fountain at noon, there to receive our white, feathered plumes, to be inserted into our headgear. Shortly after, we began marching down Mt. Oread toward the stadium, spurred by our (likely) award-winning percussion section, placed in the center of the phalanx of band members. My brother, Dave, as a trombone player during his time in the band, marched in the front of the procession (you know, “Seventy-six trombones led the big parade. . .” I don’t think we featured 76 trombone players, but we likely had a couple dozen), and the clarinets were housed near the back.

When we hit the bottom of the hill, and entered the concourse below the stands, we would launch into the primary fight song, “I’m a Jayhawk,” which would boom throughout the space - better acoustics even than in Carnegie Hall, or perhaps a small bathroom. Enjoy the rendition below, and imagine you’re marching along in the concourse, below the stands at Memorial Stadium, or in Carnegie Hall, or perhaps in a small bathroom. . .

Upon completing that first leg of our journey, we would disperse to our appointed entry point, with twenty or thirty band members poised to “run-in” down the stairs from each stadium entry-point, to assemble on the field for the pregame show. But first, each group would engage in a sing-along of the ever-popular, “When It’s Hog-Calling Time in Nebraska (lyrics helpfully printed below):

“When it’s hog-calling time in Nebraska, When it’s hog-calling time in Nebraska, When it’s hog-calling time in Nebraska, Then it’s hog-calling time in Nebraska.”

Why hog-calling? Why Nebraska? I have no idea - just that it was a tradition. And, who am I to argue with tradition? I can also recall the most noncommittal cheer I have ever heard, shared by yet another trumpet-playing fraternity brother, Paul Spencer:

“One-two-three! Four-five-six! Seven-eight-nine! Ten!”

Simple, but it says it, no? I think that cheer would be quite at home in today’s “everybody gets a medal” society, in that it doesn’t take sides.

The next step was the “run-in,” punctuated by the (likely) award-winning percussion section; the band formed on the field, and marched and played through several traditional (there’s that word again) KU band favorites, including the “Sunflower Song,” during which the band formed a sunflower, while marching first one way, then the next (pictured atop this column).

At the end of the pregame show, the band stood in place, while playing the “Star Spangled Banner,” at which point I became painfully aware of the worn-down nature of the soccer cleats I was wearing, which I had purchased used from another former band member and fraternity brother, Ethan Hunter, for $10.00 - it’s a simple physics problem: When it’s 90 degrees in Kansas in September, the extremely-thin Astroturf covering of the concrete base of the football field at Memorial Stadium increases the surface temperature to roughly 110 degrees, and the battle-worn soccer cleats absorb that heat rather quickly, causing the wearer to hop up and down during the “Star Spangled Banner.”

After the playing of the “Star Spangled Banner,” the band led the entire crowd in the world-famous “Rock Chalk Chant” - enjoy the chant in all its glory here. . .

At the conclusion of the “Rock Chalk Chant,” the band promptly marched off the field, while playing “I’m a Jayhawk,” nimbly sidestepping, and marching over benches, water coolers, and KU players, in order to completely vacate the field (unlike in Don McLean’s “American Pie,” in which “. . .The marching band refused to yield. . .”)

After the band found its way to its section in the stands, each member swapped the white feather-plumed hats for a wide assortment of Jayhawk-themed baseball caps - more recent pictures of the band which I have seen feature all band members sporting the same baseball cap - kudos to the University of Kansas Marching Jayhawks for adopting a more effective brand management strategy.

The next, extremely critical step in the band’s day was the distribution of ice-cold Cokes, which were slugged-down very quickly (Ed. note: See the “simple physics problem” explanation above, and throw in heavy wool uniforms, to boot - wool doesn’t breathe, you know).

The band performed its halftime show, in all its pageantry, including a baton-twirler, cheerleaders, and flag team, to universal acclaim. I’m just kidding - most people in the stands chose that time to visit the bathrooms, or the concession stands below the stands. But, they were really missing out! Some of our formations included a block “K,” or “KU,” and a script “Kansas” - unfortunately, the founding fathers of the state of Kansas didn’t have the foresight that their counterparts in Ohio had - you know, “Now, let’s make sure that the name of our state has an “i” in it, so that when one of our state universities eventually fields a marching band, there will be an opportunity for a sousaphone player to theatrically dot the “i.” I don’t know about you, but I would have been comfortable with “Kansias.”

At the conclusion of the game, the band performed a concert in the stands, as fans trickled out of the stadium. The final piece played was always a very moving rendition of “Home on the Range,” arranged by an assistant band director at the time, Jim Barnes; Jim was a talented composer and arranger, who also arranged many of the band’s halftime extravaganzas. And, I remembered Jim for his catchphrase: “Early is on-time - on-time is late!” It’s a good thing that Jim was a talented composer amd arranger, because he would have made a lousy train conductor.

As we’re nearing the end of this week’s column, please enjoy “Home on the Range” here, and imagine it echoing throughout a mostly-empty stadium - probably not better acoustics than in the concourse, below the stands at Memorial Stadium, or in Carnegie Hall, or perhaps in a small bathroom, but still, truly sublime. . .

So why have so many dedicated marching band members invested time and energy over the years into bolstering the world-class reputation of the University of Kansas Marching Jayhawks? Perhaps they did it, as I did, for the money. That’s right, Junior and Senior members of the band were paid a whopping $25.00 for the season, as an enticement for joining the band; in addition, “Rank Leaders” (responsible for managing a group of twelve members) were paid an additional $25.00 for the season; and, finally, “Section Leaders” were paid an additional $25.00 for the season.

That’s right, I was paid $75.00 for participating in my final marching season at KU. I don’t recall what the prevailing minimum-wage was at the time, but I’m pretty sure that my hourly rate would have checked in well below that threshold.

In today’s commercial landscape, of course, I would make out like a bandit, given the NCAA’s recent NIL (Name, Image & Likeness) legislation. I would have been free to ink sponsorship deals with the likes of: Weaver’s, Border Bandito (home of the “Texas Burrito”), or the Wagon Wheel Cafe (a/k/a “The Wheel”).

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