Today is another significant date in history, which is not surprising, really. Until modern times, many really big events – great gatherings and assemblies and battles – had to wait until the weather made it possible to travel and move masses of people and supplies. Winter was too cold, Spring too wet, so Summer is when a lot of stuff used to happen. Thus June is rather heavily loaded with memorable dates.

It was on this date in 1815, now fully two centuries ago – that Napoleon met his Waterloo at the hands of the forces allied against him under Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington. The battle of Waterloo was one of those linchpins of history, marking the end of Napoleon’s quest for a European Empire, and a return to the older world order of hereditary monarchs and privileged nobility (for a while, at least.)

In the late 1950s, a young history doctoral candidate at Harvard, wrote his thesis on the aftermath of Napoleon’s nearly 20 years of military adventuring in Europe. Focussing on the Congress of Vienna, at which virtually every change that Napoleon had made was undone, he titled his massive study of the importance of diplomacy A World Restored. This student saw that for all of Napoleon’s magnificent battlefield accomplishments, it was the diplomats who shaped the next century of European history. He later was able to apply his notions of diplomacy in a meaningful way, as Secretary of State: Henry Kissinger.

In American History, the aftermath of Waterloo is notable in that Napoleon’s sale of the Louisiana Territory to the fledgling United States was permitted to stand, even as virtually every other Napoleonic transaction was undone after Waterloo. This meant that The United States of America was the only nation to materially gain from the two decades of warfare that Napoleon waged. No small accomplishment for a nation that never involved itself in the fray! The results of famous victories may be erased almost immediately. Diplomacy can gain more than mighty armies!

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

— Wellington, on Waterloo

It is perhaps worth a moment of our time this day – especially at a time when there is serious concern that governmental overreach may be compromising fundamental rights – to reflect that Magna Carta was signed by England’s King John at Runnymeade on this day, June 15, approximately 800 years ago in 1215. Magna Carta – The Great Charter – is aptly named.

Magna Carta looms large in our history and in our daily lives for two important reasons: Magna Carta delineated certain rights, protections, and liberties which evolved into those we enjoy to this day, such as Due Process, Habeas Corpus, and trial by jury. Far more importantly, though, Magna Carta established The Fundamental Principle that The Government would be documentably Responsible To The Governed and documentably Limited In Its Powers. No King of England could claim as France’s Louis XIV did, “I am the state!” (Well, he said: “L’etat c’est moi!“)

Even when England’s monarchs enjoyed their greatest degree of personal power during the Tudor and Stuart dynasties, they were constrained by law in ways that other monarchs around the globe were not. Clause 29 of Magna Carta, which remains in force in English law to this day, requires due process of law for all punishments.

In April of 1603, as King James VI of Scotland made his procession from Edinburgh to London to ascend the English throne upon the death of his cousin Elizabeth, a thief was caught stealing from his household. King James ordered the officials of Newark to have the man hanged immediately, which was done. This autocratic exercise of power horrified King James’ English subjects. No King of England had been able to decree such punishment for almost four centuries. Sir John Harington wrote, “I hear our new King hath hanged one man before he was tried. ‘Tis strangely done; now if the wind bloweth thus, why not a man be tried before he hath offended?”

When the English began establishing colonies on the Atlantic Coast of North America, Magna Carta formed a fundamental basis for colonial law. The Virginia Charter of 1606 provided for the continuance of the liberties guaranteed English subjects in Magna Carta. The Charter of Massachusetts Bay did likewise. William Penn, founder and proprietor of Pennsylvania, expressly interpreted Magna Carta as providing for Habeas Corpus and Jury trial within his colony. Maryland wished to incorporate Magna Carta explicitly into the colony’s fundamental law, but a wary King Charles I, who insisted upon his devine right to rule, was unwilling to authorize such a check upon his desired powers. The English colonists in the New World expressly and implicitly carried Magna Carta with them. Indeed, it was the violations of the Rights of Englishmen by King George III and the Parliament which fomented the revolution which resulted in an independent United States of America. In the Declaration of Independence, Thomas Jefferson delineated the King’s many tyrannies, including several abrogations of Magna Carta. Specifically cited were the King’s refusal to respect colonial legislatures, the displacement of Common Law in Quebec, and the denial of the right to trial established in Magna Carta. The fundamental law established in Magna Carta was the basis for the very notion of a written and clearly codified constitution. Magna Carta is truly the direct ancestor of the Constitution of the United States of America. The heritage of Magna Carta was similarly profound in other English colonies.

The main features of Magna Carta were not for the general populace, of course, but rather for the elite nobility, the Barons. Our true inheritance from this document is that it paved the way for our own U. S. Constitution and the principle of the rule of law (even if it be often bent or breached!) It is no accident that the history of the English Common Law nations is not repleat with strong men and all-powerful monarchs; it is no accident that no English Common Law nation has ever been home to a brutal dictatorship. The precedent of Magna Carta – that The Law is above the ruler and not the ruler above The Law – makes hard ground for authoritarian regimes to flourish.

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

Further Reading:

Libraries of analyses and interpretations of Magna Carta have been written, of course, many for the legal scholar or specialist. But one very interesting and reasonably light treatment that is worth a look is:

1215: The Year Of Magna Carta, Danny Danziger and John Dillingham; Touchstone, 2005: ISBN-10: 0743257782

One can locate the portions of Magna Carta which remain in effect, unchanged, in English law by consulting this site:

http://www.legislation.gov.uk/aep/Edw1cc1929/25/9/section/XXIX

It was thirty-five – yes, really thirty-five – years ago this day that the unquiet volcano, Mount Saint Helens, in Washington state exploded with a fury that astounded even the most well-prepared and seasoned observers. Seismologists and volcanologists had been expecting an eruption of the mountain for several weeks before the catastrophic blast, and United States Geological Survey volcanologist David Johnston had, after great effort, pursuaded the government to close off the surrounding area, (potentially saving thousands of lives; sadly, he lost his own because of his dedication to his work there) but no one predicted anything to match the actual eruption.

The incredible force of the eruption tore off the top of the conical, snow-capped peak, lowering the mountain by nearly 2,000 feet. The resulting flow of melted snow and ice as well as boiling mud and magma raced down the mountainside, flooding Spirit Lake at the base of the mountain, and rampaging down the river valley for a dozen miles or more before exhausting its energy. The shock wave created by the blast leveled the surrounding forests for miles in all directions. Several dozen people were killed by the eruption, as well as tens of thousands of animals and millions of fish.

A plume of steam and volcanich ash rose from the enormous crater more than 50,000 feet into the atmosphere. The fine, gritty volcanic ejecta fell upon the Northwest like snow, blanketing a vast area of eastern Washington state, northern Idaho, and northeastern Oregon. Though the ashfall did not kill anyone directly, it quite possibly contributed to repiritory diseases. The economic impact of the ashfall was immense, for the fine, coarse grit was composed of very hard minerals, and it proved to be devastating to automobile engines and other machinery.

Digging out from under the ashfall took months, and recovery overall took years. I flew over Mount Saint Helens in July of 1985 on my way to my sister’s wedding in Kennewick, Washington. The aerial view was astonishing, even five years after the event; Mount Saint Helens presented a moonscape of grey, barren, dead ground littered by millions of treetrunks looking like scattered toothpicks. It seemed impossible to believe that the land could recover, at least within several lifetimes.

I was all the more amazed, therefore, when I again flew directly over the site in the Spring of 1996. Where there had been stark, barren grey desert eleven years earlier, dense green had filled in most of the scene. According to the scientists who had been closely monitoring the site, most of the returning vegetation was grass and small herbaceous plants, but sapling trees were beginning to reclaim the site as well.

The destructive power of nature is unimaginably vast, but the tenacity of life, and its recuperative power, is vaster still.

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Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

— Lucretius, The Nature of Things

This will be brief simply because there is no way I could possibly say enough in a single post.

Seventy years ago today, the remnants of the government of the Third Reich unconditionally surrendered to the allied forces, bringing to an end the long, bloody trauma of World War II in Europe. Victory in Europe Day, better known as VE day, marked a singular milestone in human history. So much must be said about this, but, as I noted above, this medium is inadequate and I feel unequal to the challenge of doing justice to the story.

I will say this: though the cost was unimaginably enormous, that victory had to be won, and all of humankind is the better for that victory. I do truly believe this. And we owe gratitude and thanks to those who bore the struggle and its burdens, up to that “last full measure of devotion,” so that we can enjoy today what we have here and now.

I thank God my Parents’ generation was replete with heroes. I am just as grateful that heroes abound today. Though the scope and scale of the struggles be different, the courage, heroism, and patriotism are of much the same mettle and our gratitude ought be as well.

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

Without courage, all other virtues lose their meaning. — Winston Churchill

It was one hundred years ago today, 7 May 1915, that one of the fastest, most luxurious, and most popular ocean liners of its day was torpedoed without warning and sank in less than 18 minutes, taking 1,195 people to their deaths. The sinking of the unarmed passenger liner Lusitania by a German U-boat ultimately propelled the United States of America into the carnage and butchery of World War I, “the war to end all wars.”

Since I last updated this article, some new information has come to light which expands our understanding of the circumstances of the sinking, and that new information requires some reconsideration and amendment to this piece. Though History is what happened in the past, its record is a living, changing entity, and the historical record must be updated when new information demands a reassessment.

Lusitania, a Cunard liner, was launched in 1906 and began regular transatlantic service in 1907. She was the finest ship of her age when launched. Her second class accommodations were more luxurious than first class on her rivals and sister ships. (Today we would find things rather spartan: private bathrooms were only for the priciest cabins!) Lusitania set the transatlantic speed record in November 1907: 4 days, 20 hours, thereby becoming the first ship to cross the Atlantic Ocean in under five days. She and her sister ship, Mauretania, (launched 1907) were known as “The Atlantic Greyhounds.” They ensured that the legendary “Blue Riband” (not a real trophy, but the popular designation of the transatlantic speed record) would remain in Cunard’s hands (and out of the Germans’) for the next 22 years!

Lusitania became the preferred ship for the transatlantic set, and remained so even during those perilous days as the first World War was unfolding. Lusitania was ready to depart from New York on 1 May 1915 even as a widely published advertisement from the German Embassy warned Americans that British ships were fair game for German U-boats.

Lusitania crossed the open ocean without incident, her fabled speed being her best armor. Unaccountably, however, despite being notified that U-boats had sunk three British ships south of Ireland immediately prior to the time that Lusitania was expected, Captain William Turner ordered the vessel to reduce speed. Apparently he was more concerned about patchy fog on the route than about German U-boats.

Kapitanleuntnant Walter Schweiger of the Imperial German Navy’s submarine U-20 could not believe his good luck! The most tempting target a U-boat captain had thus far seen was directly in his sights!

One torpedo was all that was required to kill the great liner. Holed amidship, the damage was compounded by a secondary explosion which some believe was exacerbated by a secret cargo of munitions which was detonated by the initial blast, but which submarine archeologist Robert Ballard believes to have been Lusitania’s boilers. Lusitania sank in an almost unimaginably short time. Most of Lusitania’s 1,959 passengers had no opportunity to save themselves. The loss of life was staggering, especially considering that the great ship was within easy sight of land.

The dastardly attack provoked outrage around the world. The act was condemned even in German newspapers, and Germany’s allies Austria-Hungary and The Ottoman Empire both protested to the Kaiser’s government. Imperial Germany immediately began a propoganda campaign justifying the sinking, making note of Germany’s many warnings about the dangers to vessels of combatant nations, and claiming that Lusitania was carrying contraband arms cargo. This claim was immediately refuted by the Port Authority of New York which had inspected the ship’s cargo as required by law and had found only crates of small arms cartridges which were permitted. Cunard lines and the British Admiralty both denied that Lusitania had war matériel aboard, but the matter is still hotly debated.

In an article published in the venerable Manchester Guardian on 1 May 2014, journalist Saul David notes that in 1982, the British Foreign Office was concerned about the wreckage of the Lusitania presenting a serious danger to salvers because “there is a large amount of ammunition in the wreck, some of which is highly dangerous” and that the 1982 salvage operation might “literally blow up on us.” Mister David based his observations on an article published the day before in the Guardian:

http://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/may/01/lusitania-salvage-warning-munitions-1982

This recent addition to the known facts makes it impossible to assert with confidence and credibility that Lusitania was not transporting war matériel. It is implausible that Captain Schweiger would have had any intelligence data informing him of this fact, however; his justification in firing upon the ship was simply that Lusitania was classified as an “Auxiliary Cruiser” by the British Admiralty.

In the United Kingdom, the sinking was predictably met with outrage and the tragedy was used as an occasion to whip up patriotic fervor. Posters were printed demanding justice for the sinking, and to inspire recruiting efforts and bonds sales. But the most significant reaction was in The United States.

The U.S. government protested to the Kaiser’s government and demanded that, in addition to paying reparation for the 123 Americans killed in the attack, that Germany abandon its policy of unrestricted submarine warfare. Unwilling to draw the United States into the European conflict on the side of the English and the French, Imperial Germany declared an end to unrestricted U-boat attacks. The termination of such attacks was more in name than in fact: in the Fall of 1915, a German U-boat sank an Italian liner without warning, killing 23 Americans. The tide of public opinion in America turned decisively against the Germans. When the Germans declared the resumption of unrestricted submarine warfare in early 1917, America’s entry into the war became inevitable. On April 6, 1917, just shy of two years after Lusitania was lost, America declared war on the German Empire.

Thus did Kapitanleuntnant Walter Schweiger’s moment of irresistable opportunity turn into one of the linch-pins of 20th century history: had he not torpedoed Lusitania, it is possible America might have remained neutral. Had America not entered the war, Germany might not have been so decisively defeated. Had Germany’s defeat and humiliation not been so complete, Apolph Hitler might not have found so fertile a ground for his noxious schemes to reclaim German glory. The course of history just might boil down to one man, one moment of decision.

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Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

— Karl von Clausewitz

It was 225 years ago, 15 December 1791, that the United States Congress approved the first ten amendments to the United States Constitution, permitting The Bill of Rights to become an integral part of American Law and life. The Bill as originally submitted actually included twelve amendments but only ten were passed on this date.

The Bill of Rights, perhaps more than any other component of the United States Constitution, ensured that America’s bold experiment would have a unique and enduring place in the annals of human progress and human freedom. No previous government had ever explicitly and forthrightly placed such fundamental constraints upon its power, and certainly never at its very outset. True, there was precedence in this area – Magna Carta is often cited as the conceptual ancestor of The Bill of Rights, and the 17th Century English Bill of Rights was clearly influential as well – but nothing of this scope and scale had ever been established before.

As other nations revolted against their colonial rulers, particularly in Latin America, similar limitations were incorporated into new constitutions. Few have been as enduring and as influential as our own Bill of Rights, however. The notion that the government derives its just powers from the consent of the govern had been proposed long before the American revolution, but the notion that a government would itself limit its own powers was a new thing under the sun, and this made the beacon of America shine even more brightly in a world yearning for freedom.

We really should applaud the courage and integrity of people in government who, well remembering the abuses against which they had revolted, decided to hold true to their values and ensure that their new government could not lapse into the old tyranny.

Just to note, the Eleventh Amendment was never ratified. The proposed Twelfth Amendment was finally ratified 7 May 1992 as the Twenty-seventh Amendment!

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Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

He that would make his own liberty secure must guard even his enemy from oppression; for if he violates this duty he establishes a precedent that will reach to himself.

— Thomas Paine

Modified 12/16/16

It is hard to believe it, but it is now thirty-five years since the Cal Band made its appearance in the short-lived Garden State Bowl! It was on Saturday, 15 December 1979 that the game was played and that the Cal Band justified the effort and expense of sending us to the East Coast to carry California’s name and her mighty fame to the jaded audiences in and around metropolitan New York.

What an exciting, even historic event it was! (There are many wonderful, memorable events in the long history of the Cal Band, but I have made it a sort of project to be sure that the Garden State Bowl is recorded and documented and such; in addition to posting this account, I always look for your additional memories, notes, tidbits, and corrections!) In December of 2007, after many years of meaning to/needing to, I dug into a stack of boxes that I have moved with me since I packed them up at Tellefsen Hall in June of 1982; I knew I must have some materials about the Garden State Bowl among these invaluable treasures, and so I did! I have my boarding passes from the outbound flight on Thursday, 13 December 1979, and the flight home after the Game in the evening of 15 December. Such are the paper-trails we pack-rat types can construct! I also have the travel poopsheets and such, a copy of the I Love New York travel guide from the Fall of 1979, and an “I ♥ NY” button! Ah, the memories!

The road to the Garden State Bowl was a rather circuitous one; the Bears’ up-and-down 1979 season under coach Roger Theder was interesting, to say the least. Though marred by a painful late-in-the-game loss to UCLA, (27 – 28!) and an expected loss to U$C, (14 – 24) the Bears managed a winning season, (barely: 6W – 5L) capping it off with a Big Game victory (21 – 14.) Then came the news that Cal had been invited to the Garden State Bowl! (The Garden State Bowl???) Playing Temple (Temple???) But it was a BOWL GAME!!!

This would be Cal’s first post-season appearance in 20 years!!! (In point of fact, slightly less than 21 years, being that the previous bowl appearance had been The Rose Bowl, 1 January 1959!) What excitement! What questions! Would the Band be able to go? Would there be any monies available? How many would go? How long would we be there? Was there a parade? When would we rehearse? Where would we rehearse? It was a heady time of questions, frantic if uncertain planning, and rumors.

Fortunately, things began to come together for The Cal Band. Though the Bowl provided little money for the Band (and the Athletic Department was unwilling to part with more than the allotted funds) Chancellor Albert Bowker saved the day with a last minute infusion of cash, stating that it would be ridiculous to present Cal Football to the nation without including the Cal Band. (It seems to me that the vast sum contributed was something like $10,000.00; any memories?)

There was an unbelievable jolt of joy down in 57 Student Center when the news was confirmed. Our Senior Manager, Steve Spafford, (Trumpet `76) broke the news to the gathered crowd and the cheers and whoops were excited and energetic, and seemed to go on and on. Because ExComm and AdComm had already begun working on logistics even without confirmed funding, there was a large map of New York city on the wall above the PRD’s desk. I recall looking at it and thinking, “Wow! We’re really going there!” It wasn’t the Rose Bowl, but in one way it was even more exciting: we were heading to “The Big Apple!”

The afternoon we learned of the Chancellor’s support, we immediately put together a Straw Hat Band to play at University House as a “thank you.” We knocked on the door and entered, apparently unexpected, as some sort of rather formal reception was going on. The brass and flash of an enthusiastic SHB contrasted mightily with the staid decorum of the Chancellor’s reception, to say the least. But we were well-received all the same, and Chancellor Bowker told us, “I can always count on the Cal band.” The reception guests also had various positive things to say, being very pleased at the surprise entertainment. (I have always suspected that whoever coordinated the thing had some inside information about the whole situation, because dropping in on the Chancellor unannounced seems rather bad form, but I really don’t know for certain.)

Since the Band would have to fly to New York/New Jersey for the game, a novel way to reduce the cost of airfare was adopted. In mid-year of 1979, there had been a lengthy and difficult strike at American Airlines. In order to attract business, American offered half-fare coupons to all travelers (these eventually morphed into the well-loved Frequent Flyer Miles we so enjoy today!) Cal Bandsmen combed hill and dale, implored family and friends for anyone who was willing to donate these coupons to help defray the cost of air transit. And it worked!

Members of ExComm and AdComm that year worked overtime-plus to arrange the logistics of the trip: busses, hotels, meals, and all the adminstrivia that is part and parcel of any large organization traveling, with some of those uniquely Cal Band concerns added on, such as where to play in New York. The DM and TA’s coordinated a “WTP,” as it was informally dubbed (“Winter Training Program.”) This consisted of two days of intense rehearsal, Tuesday and Wednesday in Memorial Stadium, and a three-hour music rehearsal in BRH Tuesday night.

Immediately before the start of WTP, many folks who lived too far away from Berkeley to venture home for the weekend simply remained at Tellefsen Hall. The TH Board had generously decided to support the Bowl trip by providing meals Tuesday and Wednesday during “WTP” at no extra charge to house members, and Tellefsen Hall’s popular cook, Myrtle Davis (Ladle, `77) agreed to do duty, but for the weekend and that Monday we were on our own.

It happened that 1979 was shaping up to be a bumper year for the Dungeness Crab fisheries, and Spenger’s offered fully cooked, whole crab at the irresistible price of $1.09 a pound! Accordingly, I proposed a crab feast. The interested parties all pitched in something like five bucks each, and armed with about $60.00, my brother Rob, (Trombone `78) and Lou Khazoyan, (Trumpet `78) and I drove to the Berkeley waterfront and stocked up on about 25 pounds of crab. En route back to TH we spent the remaining funds on sourdough loaves, tart green apples, sharp Tillamook cheddar, and a couple of huge jugs of Gallo Chablis. Thus was born what for the next couple of years was something of a minor tradition – and one I sorely miss these days, living in Texas!

WTP ran smoothly and productively. Many of the components of the halftime show were quite familiar, being built upon several successful drills from the 1979 season, with contributions from other seasons, so it was more a matter of fine-tuning and polishing than of actual learning. The show was ready in record time, and it showcased a wide range of Cal Band talents. The result was a show which not only displayed the breadth and depth of the Cal Band’s ability, but a show with which we felt confident of wowing the crowd

Despite the rather long days, WTP seemed over in a flash, and almost before we knew it, it was time to head east. After rehearsal on Wednesday, we loaded the rented truck with uniform boxes (remember those?) and the large instruments, plus all manner of other necessary equipment. Whew! After two days of concentration and work, we felt well prepared for the bowl game performances.

Through the miracle of modern technology, you can view the halftime performance on the web:

On Thursday the 13th, we had to show up at BRH at 6:00am, no exceptions. Sticking to the schedule, our busses departed at 7:00am sharp. The famous “Yellowstone Policy” was in full force. Steve Spafford had distributed an information sheet which stated: “We have alternates for those who aren’t on the busses at 7:00am.” And for once, no one was late! We looked about as respectable and presentable as possible, because we were to travel in coat and tie — it was a different world back then. So we bussed to SFO and flew non-stop to JFK.

Steve Spafford’s informational sheet was not all gruff and tough. It was entitled: “GARDENSTATEBOWLGOBEARSBEATTHEWHO?INFOSHEET” and it concluded with the statement, “This is going to be a greater experience than you can imagine, so be ready to have a great time and put on a great performance!” One detail I had forgotten after all these years was that every band member participating was asked to contribute $30.00 to the meal fund. “If we do get the money you will be reimbursed – if you are nice.” I believe we did get the funding, but I just do not recall that detail precisely. Of course we were advised to pack warm clothing, but I have to smile that on the “what to bring list,” in subtle Cal Band fashion, someone had slipped in, “… long underwear, gloves, mufflers, swimsuit …” And under “Optional equipment,” the travel poopsheet advised: “Parachute, Black notebook and camera to record your favorite CBR.”

We loaded busses at JFK and headed to our hotel in Clifton, New Jersey. I’ll never forget the hotel’s marquee on the highway reading: “Welcome Calf State” (who the hell was “Calf State????”) They quickly corrected the error. My former roommate Eric Abrahamson (Clarinet `76) who was in graduate school at Northwestern at the time flew to New Jersey for the game, and met us in the lobby of our hotel. A gathering of other alumni had arrived as well. It was really great to see these folks. To this day, I still feel that the most compelling of reasons to go to a bowl game is the chance to meet up with friends.

Friday morning we rehearsed at the Meadowlands in Giants Stadium where the bowl was to be held. It had been quite wet the day before, and the temperatures overnight were well below freezing. The result was a field surface that was both slick and slippery and hard as a rock! What’s more, the first-generation Astroturf carpet was decidedly “long in the tooth,” looking rather threadbare in places, and coming up at the seams in others. If you weren’t careful, a curled edge could easily trip you!

Though it was several degrees above freezing, it was nevertheless bitterly cold. The damp, chilly wind seemed to draw the heat out of everyone. I can still recall the image of bandmembers bundled up in down jackets and scarves as we ran through the halftime. Pregame, though, was another story all together. Off came the jackets and winter gear for the final run through (and right back on after!)

We then bussed into Manhattan to perform at Lincoln Center, the CitiCorp Tower, Rockefeller Center and sundry other venues. Sleigh Ride, March of Carols, (lovingly dubbed Marathon of Carols!) and other holiday fare along with several tunes from the 1979 season, and of course the core of Cal songs; we played for hours to appreciative crowds of harried Manhattanites. That evening we had time in Manhattan, and Bob Briggs (Cornet `48, Baton `71 – `95) had arranged for several of us to see A Chorus Line at the Schubert. (I think that the vast bulk of the audience was mystified, wondering what joke they had missed when the balcony erupted in laughter at the line: “That’s step – pivot – step – step – pivot – step.” We all cracked up because the line was nearly identical to an exhortation from the DM’s tower during the day’s rehearsal.) In another sign of just how long ago this really was, the balcony tickets for the show were $13.00! Yes, it was a different world.

Saturday dawned cold and clear. It was 26 degrees at 7:00am, according to a bank sign nearby the hotel. During the game, things warmed up to a balmy 36 or 38 degrees or so, quite a cold day for folks used to the Bay Area’s more moderate highs and lows. Saturday morning rehearsal was again conducted with patches of ice on the field’s Astroturf, and brass players had to keep their mouthpieces under their jackets to avoid “freezing” their lips. But the warmth of the day’s excitement made the cold seem trivial.

The pregame show gave us a taste of how receptive the crowd would be; though there was a rather small contingent of loyal blues who had made their way to East Rutherford, New Jersey to root on the Bears, there was a hearty roar from the crowd when pregame was over. The only jarring note from pregame was “the bomb.” It was apparently identical to every other Cal Band Pregame Bomb that we had ever used, but perhaps the cold weather had affected its chemistry, for it exploded in a huge shower of sparks with an unusually small amount of smoke. It looked impressive enough, but it was definitely not the usual effect.

The first half of the game saw a desultory performance by the gridiron Bears, but the game was by no means decided. The halftime show was a triumph! Opening with Fat Bottomed Girls (and the ethereal effect of vocals provided by percussion, basses, and anyone else who wasn’t playing!) moving on to Le Regiment de Sambre et Meuse for a display of classic Cal Band countermarches, then to the lyrical melody of Eres Tu, concluding with the rhythm and drive of The Letter; it was a well balanced and well performed show. Not flawless, of course, but a triumph. And the crowd went wild! Folks sitting on the row after the bass section were congratulating and complimenting the Band: “Go Bay-ahs! You guys are great!”

Alas, the football Bears could not muster the points to defeat Temple: Temple 28 – California 17. Perhaps the Bears had been jinxed; on the schedule in the poopsheet, someone had included for Saturday’s agenda: “4:30 p.m. Postgame — Band plays Palms of Victory.” (Surely we ought to have known better) The scoreboard at the stadium, featuring animated graphics of the most primitive sort, added insult to the injury by displaying a scene of an Owl – the mascot of Temple – flying over and pooping upon the head of a Bear! (Only in New Jersey!) But after the game Chancellor Bowker was reported to have observed that it was a good thing for California’s pride and reputation that the Band had performed at the game.

The post-game logistics were a challenge, as we had to get back to the hotel, change, pack up, and return to JFK for the flight home. During one leg of the bus trip, one of the bus drivers took extreme exception to the Band’s traditional bus driver greeting, and slammed on the brakes as we hurtled down the highway, sending Don Brownson (Trombone, `76; StuD, `79) flying into the stepwell of the bus. We thought he was seriously injured, but Don gamely continued from his prone position, “Let’s all say hello to the …”

We arrived back in California about 12:30am and back in Berkeley even later, exhausted, yet despite the loss, glowing with satisfaction. The Cal Band had fully upheld its end of the day.

There are so many memories from that trip: “Ten Columbus Circle! (Boom!) TEN Columbus Circle! (Boom!!!) TEN COLUMBUS CIRCLE!!! (BOOM!!!)” Masked “terrorists” on the plane flight (not even conceivable in this day and age!) Beefsteak Charlie’s. Mamma Leone’s. Broadway in its late 1970’s depths of tacky, tawdry, and seedy. “I ♥ NY” buttons. An errant and much-disputed subway token. Legal drinking at 18. New Jersey governor Brendan Byrne being booed loud and long during the pregame ceremonies. I can barely begin to recount all the tales told from that adventure. But what stands at the forefront are memories of a lot of hard work, a really fine trip, and a truly outstanding performance.

15 December 2014
Flower Mound, Texas

After I posted these recollections in 2004, on the occasion of the Twenty-Fifth anniversary, Scott Dreisbach (Trumpet `77) wrote to share:

My three favorite memories from the bowl….

1) The ridiculous amount of time Hutch (Jim Hutcherson, trumpet `75) and I spent at domestic customs trying to get the ‘bomb’ while you all were snuggy-wuggy in Clifton. Can you imagine the trouble we’d have THESE days!!?? Then, on the parkway. Dear Lord . . . Hutch was driving the rental truck and the last sign I saw before entering the on-ramp was ‘No Trucks’. Sh*t! Of course they don’t have off-ramps every mile or so. We were on that bad boy for at least 10 miles before we finally got caught and pulled over. ‘Whatcha got in the truck, boys’, says the cop. I repeat, Dear Lord! The last thing we put on the truck was the effing ‘bomb’! We were going to jail for sure, right? Fortunately, we happened to put the ‘bomb’ in with the ‘explosive’ DOT tag towards the uniform boxes. He let us go. Again, Dear Lord!!!

2) I didn’t get the memo that we were to bring ‘civies’ for our New York City free time jaunt. I ended up walking the streets of the Large Apple in band pants, suspenders, a white shirt, black shoes and spats. I do miss the spats, by the way. Anyhow, I got a ration of sh*t here and there, but basically I wasn’t badgered too much…..I mean, you must really be a bad-ass to walk the dark streets of NYC dressed like that, right? The cool thing was that I was walking around with about 4 other bandsmen, including MadDog (Tony McElligot, trumpet `78) I think, and they were amused at my dress as well. Anyhow, after leaving one of the pubs, and having had a few we came upon a remarkable sight. A 4 foot wide, 10 foot tall white board tacked to a wall that had been spray painted with the simple missive, ‘Welcome to New York, Scott’! Pretty cool, huh. Don’t remember who took the photo with me by the sign, but my right arm in trade if you know who has it….

3) On the flight home, I was granted the honor of NOT wearing ‘school clothes’ since I was in charge of field set-up, and had certainly put in my due on that trip. They had those little, itty-bitty bottles of red wine for sale, and I really enjoyed a sip. The sips turned into at least a half dozen bottles, which translated into sleep. Somewhere over Omaha, I slipped away (cause nobody wants to fall asleep in the general populace of a band trip….THAT’S from experience) to one of the planes ‘heads’. I didn’t awaken until the deployed landing gear signaled our reentry into the ‘safe’ confines of the Bay. I felt quite ill for the next day or two…..ugh.

Barbara Goodson (Mellophonium `77) also recalled:

I have vivid memories of the whole thing. First, that Karl Bizjak (Bass Drum, `74) was invited to perform as an alumnus. Then spending my birthday there and going out for drinks with some folks.

“S-C-O-A-H, Score, Score (with the accent).” “Ten Columbus Circle, Eleven PM (bump, bump, bump)” “IIIII, Heart NY (sung to the ad jingle)” Our bus driver BACKING UP on the turnpike. Having a “George of the Jungle” contest on the bus. Bob Briggs getting “merry” on the plane and singing, “if you knew Susie like I knew Susie” “Where you kids from? We’re from Berkeley! Ah, yeah, Brooklyn!” The only time I was warm on the whole trip was right after pre-game!

My brother Rob (Trombone `78) added his memory:

Add the story about the Manhattan matron, fur bedecked, at Lincoln center who (apparently miffed by a recent concert-going experience) told Bob Briggs, “You play better than the New York Philharmonic.”

Too, I would add about the teasing we got on the way out of the stands at halftime, “Yo, you guys gonna do drugs?”, “Got any marijuana?” This, because it contrasts so nicely with the warm post-show reception from the same people.

And digging through my email archives, I also accumulated replies and memories elicited by earlier Garden State Bowl postings:

A drinking age of 18 in New York… How about “Brown-man’s bus! Brown-man’s bus!”, we won’t mention the “New Jersey Four”, marching up and down the aisles on the flight home with airline pillow covers on their head chanting “Down with de Shah!” (this WAS 1979), Scotty walking the streets of New York with his spats still on (who and where was our uniform manager?)

Oh! And: “We want Sleigh Ride!”

Bob Colburn
Tenor ’77
(1994)

Speaking as a brass player who actually was at the Garden State Bowl in 1979, I was not aware of any Cal Bandsmen who had their lips freeze to their mouthpieces. We were all warned in advance to coat our lips with petroleum jelly before playing. Thus, the problem was one of the mouthpiece sliding of the lips while trying to blow at 100db+++ while marching high-step down the field on hard-packed, poorly-maintained, artificial turf. The other problem was that despite switching from slide cream and water to oil for lubricating the old slush pump, my slide still froze up when ever my horn was not blown for a period of 2 minutes or more. Therefore, advance warning was necessary when playing from the stands. We needed to blow through our bones for about 30 seconds before starting a song, or the first 30 seconds of notes would be B-flat, F, and D.

Douglas Fouts
Trombone `75
(1994)

Q: How about the pain of the freezing cold? I heard it got pretty chilly out there; lots of stories about lips freezing to mouthpieces!

A: A popular myth! The temperature at game time was 46 degrees. It got down to about 38 by the end of the game; not too bad for New Jersey in December.

We had a great halftime: Fat Bottom Girls, Eres Tu (with the patented Tony Martinez arm raises), a march .. I think it was Le Regiment, the one Ohio State uses, and the finale was The Letter with the stick dance (no sticks). Very fun and well-received by the 50,000 or so who were there in The Meadowlands. As we walked back to our seats, one fan yelled, “Your football team is crap, but you got da best band I ever saw.”

The REHEARSAL the day before was quite cold and windy. It rained the night before, and the water on the Astroturf froze by morning. The turf was hard as a rock. The temperature was about 35, but with the wind chill, it was probably down around 15 or so. That is really cold for Californians, but not cold enough to freeze lips to the mouthpieces.

Randall Rhea
Sax `79
(1994)

I also recall a few thousand high school bandsfolk in the crowd, many of whom were very complimentary as we returned to our seats after half-time. I don’t think any of them showed up at Cal in the two or three years following the game, though… Maybe the California heat was as fearsome to those natives of NJ, NY and PA as the NJ cold was to some of us.

Alan Barton
Bass `78
(1994)

Wow, I’m the subject of a trivia question! What an honor. At any rate, Jamie, your memory serves correct. I marched pre-game and stood on the ladder for half-time. Why? Because I loved to march but felt my place at half-time was on the sideline. John Fleming (mellophonium, `74) created the precedent for this practice in 1977, I believe. Before John, the StuDs did not march.

There were plenty of interesting memories from that trip. I certainly remember playing banjo at the Lincoln Center – even if it was out in front. I thought my fingers would break off from the cold. The game itself wasn’t that cold; it was the rehearsal before it where the Astroturf was frozen. As for the antics on the plane trip home, I don’t remember too much because I was wondering if my back had been broken by a certain incident on the bus ride from the stadium. That was when the bus driver slammed on the the brakes after I led the traditional greeting, sending me flying into the handrail at the front of the bus. Ah, the memories….

Don Brownson
Trombone `76
StuD, `79
(1996)

Stanfurd was originally slotted to attend the Garden State Bowl, but thanks to a 21-14 loss in Big Game, they finished 5-6 and were knocked out of the bowl picture. Cal won on a Rich Campbell to Joe Rose TD pass, which has the distinction of being the only play in Cal history that was reviewed from the press box and reversed by the officials. (The Stanfurdites were so stupid they forgot to paint the entire end zone white, leaving a few inches of green next to the end line. The official thought Rose was out of bounds.)

Several other teams were rumored to have received the invitation to travel to New Jersey in December. Cal was a longshot with only a 6-5 record, although the losses were all very narrow to highly ranked teams like U$C and Michigan. On Tuesday, November 20, we heard that Cal received and accepted the bid, just after the year-end Band meeting. (Remarkably, the Fiesta Bowl- yes, the Fiesta Bowl- had also invited Cal, but the Bears had already accepted the Garden State bid.) Nobody thought the Band would attend such a minor bowl game. Legendary columnist Herb Caen reported in the San Francisco Chronicle that “the money to send the Cal Band just isn’t there, so All Hail will be sung a capella at the Meadowlands.”

Well, not so fast, Herb. After some amazing scrounging of half-fare coupons and political maneuvering by Band officers, outgoing chancellor Albert Bowker kicked in the needed funds to put the entire Band onto an American Airlines 747 to JFK airport. I remember the moment Ex-Comm announced that we were going; I’ve never seen a happier or more excited scene at 57 Student Center. I was particularly excited, never having experienced New York City or even a long plane trip.

The rehearsal on Friday, December 14th was truly Arctic. You may remember comments from the Monday Night Football crew this year about the winds in Giants Stadium. Well, combine 30 MPH winds with 25-degree temperatures, and you get a bunch of frigid, shocked Californians. I won’t even talk about the frozen, icy Astroturf (it rained the night before, then froze), which felt like marching on concrete. Everyone then remembered that a bowl in the Northeast in December is not a very good idea. (The Gotham Bowl went defunct after the 1962 Nebraska-Miami clash at Yankee Stadium … the Garden State Bowl gave up the ghost in 1981.)

The game was a disappointing Cal loss to the mighty Temple Owls. The halftime show was nothing less than a spectacular hit, sending 50,000 fans to their feet. The songs were Fat Bottom Girls, Le Regiment, Eres Tu, and The Letter (with stick dance sans sticks), basically a “late 1970’s Cal Band greatest hits” collection, showing remarkable versatility. The standing ovation from the New Jersey crowd was my favorite moment as a Cal Bandsman.

Thus ended the Cal Band’s only bowl appearance in the three decades between 1960 and 1989.

Randall Rhea
Sax `79
(1996)

I was a freshman this fateful year. We didn’t have enough current band members available to go, so a few alumni ringers were allowed to go. This provided the only time my brother Bill (alto, 74?) and I would be in Cal Band uniform together. I still have the cherished photo of the two of us. For that I will always be grateful to all who made the trip happen, and who allowed Bill to go.

The halftime completely rocked, and I thought we did use the sticks for the dance during The Letter. The Letter was great — I wish the current band would replace Misoverplayed for it.

Brent DeHart
FA `75-`78, Trumpet `79-`82 (the “Play”), EZD `83 -`85 or `86. (I can’t remember.)
(2007)

I was also a freshman that year, and had horrible tonsillitis which I contracted right before WTP. The show must go on, of course, so back East for me! After all the practice, my mello mouthpiece (playing a long horn back then) came out into my right armpit on jog-on at halftime, only to drop to the ground at the close-rest-up! Got to join in with the percussion and basses during FBG’s and sang every stinkin’ off-beat of Le Regiment! After flying back home to LA Saturday night, I went in to the doc Monday morning, and had my tonsils removed Tuesday. No regrets, whatsoever!

Cal Band Great!
Briana Connell
Mello ’79-84
DM ’84
(2007)

It is certainly proper that we take a moment in our busy schedules to remember the momentous event of eighty years ago today.

The 20th century, like any other, was fully provided with great and terrible moments, and instances that have changed the course of history. Nevertheless, if there be one day – one isolated day – that can truly be called the single most important day in the last century, then surely D-Day must be that day.

It was on the 50th anniversary of D-Day in 1994 that I began periodically sending these historical notes. I must mark this anniversary, especially as there has recently been something of a distressing trend to minimize or denigrate the significance of D-Day. I feel some degree of personal connection to this crucial historic event because my late father, Bill Rawson, Senior, flew his first bombing missions, co-piloting a lead bomber at the age of 19, in support of the invasion.

Ellis Woodward and my Dad, 13 September 1944.

Eighty years ago, Tuesday 6 June 1944, the leaders of the forces allied against Hitler’s terrible Reich gambled men and materièl on a scale the likes of which the world had never seen (and which we may ardently hope it never will see again!) At 0630 on 6 June, the first waves of what was to become a force 156,000 strong hit the beaches of Normandy to establish an allied toehold on the continent of Europe and to effect the beginning of the end for Hitler’s ghastly regime.

We know, live with, and daily benefit from the results of this day, but we may easily forget the risks that were then associated with the invasion and we rarely explore the dire consequences that a failure would have brought. It is easy to ignore the possibility of failure in the light of 80 years of hindsight, and we often tend to see that which has happened as inevitable. But to those involved at the time, the risks were real and the possibility of failure was keenly sensed; General Eisenhower carefully prepared his official statement in the event of failure. As it turned out, the invasion was successful beyond the most optimistic projections of the Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Forces.

Planners’ predictions of the day’s casualties ranged from a low of 12% to a high of 60%; the actual results were far, far better despite the terrible fighting on “Bloody Omaha.” Recently, extensive archival research has been conducted to provide an accurate and precise total for the day’s actual casualties. Historically, the total allied casualties for that day were reported as fewer than 6,000, about 4% of the 156,000 troops landed that day, with about 2,400 of these being fatalities. The recent research, as reported at the British D-Day Museum website, gives revised totals standing at nearly 10,000 total casualties and almost 4,000 fatalities. The final human cost was enormous, but even adjusted to the newer 6% figure, it was far below what had been expected. And for a historical perspective, These losses were about the same as those which Lee’s Army of Northern Virginia incurred in a single day at Gettysburg.

The invasion inescapably wrought death and destruction on the population of Normandy. The towns, villages, and farms of Normandy suffered under allied bombing and Nazi shelling, and from the ground battles that were fought across the Norman countryside. A 2009 article in the New York Times estimates that there were nearly 20,000 French civilian casualties as a result of the 10-weeks of fighting that followed the invasion. Allied tanks and armor bulldozed great swathes through the ancient hedgerows of the picturesque Norman farms. Driving through Normandy in early July of 1977, I noted that it was still easy to identify the route that the tanks had taken, because the relative newness of the hedgerows that had regrown was plainly visible, even 33 years after the invasion.

Within a few hours of the start of the invasion, it became clear that the allied forces could hold their beachheads. It took weeks for the armies to break out of Normandy, and it was almost a year before Germany capitulated, yet the outcome plainly hinged upon this daring gamble. The gamble succeeded for many, many reasons, of course. But today we should remember and be grateful to the soldiers of Free France, Canada, Great Britain, and The United States of America, as well as those of smaller contingents from Australia, Belgium, Czechoslovakia, Greece, the Netherlands, New Zealand, Norway, and Poland, whose courage and determination made the victory a reality, and who allowed us to live and grow in a world where the open brutality and blunt terrorism of nations is less common, and the horrors of war less frequent than in the first half of the 20th century, albeit such horror is undeniably still far too frequent.

And we should remember that there are hundreds of thousands of men and women serving us around the world today. Some are directly in harm’s way, others well-removed from the front. But all serve. These people, too, deserve our thanks. So as we remember and honor the men and women of what Tom Brokaw has aptly styled “The Greatest Generation,” we should also say thank you to those who today rise to the challenge and serve a great nation even unto their last full measure.

My thanks to all who have served and who do serve in any capacity. I am deeply grateful for your sacrifices. Thank you. It cannot be said too frequently. Thank you.

Jamie Rawson
Flower Mound, Texas

In war, resolution;
in defeat, defiance;
in victory magnanimity;
in peace, goodwill.

— Winston Churchill

FURTHER READING:

Online Resources:

The Portsmouth British D-Day Museum Website:

http://www.ddaymuseum.co.uk/

The U.S. National D-Day Museum Website:

https://www.nationalww2museum.org

New York Times Article:

Books:

For D-Day, there are, I feel, three essential books. First and foremost is Cornelius Ryan’s classic The Longest Day. First published in 1951, Ryan’s work was the first comprehensive distillation of the massive official documentation of D-Day (from both the archives of the allies and the Third Reich) supplemented with extensive personal interviews. Ryan was a journalist, and the style of The Longest Day reflects that background, but his work is a landmark of contemporary history. An excellent and highly readable work, The Longest Day is an excellent starting point from which to learn more about D-Day.

The Longest Day: The Classic Epic of D-Day, Cornelius Ryan; Simon & Schuster, 1994: ISBN: 0671890913

John Keegan, sometimes called “the Dean of Military History” was inspired by his childhood memories of watching the preparations leading up to D-Day in rural England. He became a historian and specialized in military history, bursting onto the mainstream literary scene in 1976 with his outstanding The Face of Battle, a study of three famous battles, comparing and contrasting them. In 1982, Keegan published Six Armies In Normandy, an account of D-Day that goes further that Ryan’s by following the invasion up to the Liberation of Paris two months later. Keegan is a wonderfully engaging writer who never forgets that history should be as interesting to read as the best fiction, while maintaining impeccable academic standards.

Six Armies in Normandy: From D-Day to the Liberation of Paris, John Keegan; Penguin, 1994: ISBN: 0140235426

Stephen Ambrose completed D-Day as a tribute to the 50th anniversary 30 years ago. This book was one of Ambrose’s most successful efforts to reach beyond the academic world and into the mainstream. And in this book Ambrose managed to crossover into popular publishing without compromising academic rigorousness or integrity. (Later, his popular success led to unfortunate carelessness which resulted in accusations of plagiarism, but this book predates that time.) D-Day is scrupulously well-researched and includes material from thousands of interviews which Ambrose conducted. The book reads so breathtakingly that you find yourself almost anxious to learn the outcome! This is among Ambrose’s best, and a must-read to learn more about D-Day. Ambrose’s Citizen Soldiers is an excellent supplement, containing extensive material from interviews with participants from D-Day through to The Bulge.

D Day: June 6, 1944: The Climactic Battle of World War II, Stephen E. Ambrose; Simon & Schuster, 1995: ISBN: 068480137X.