DARTMOUTH
September 22, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at Disasters.
Mexico this summer became a world leader in exportation
of oil overseas as
thousands of gallons reached American soil every day.
Unfortunately, this is crude oil, vulgar oil, greasy and unrefined
oil -- in short "Dartmouth" oil, so called because it spills all
over everything and leaves others to clean it up.
This is a far cry from the smooth, clear, well-mannered and infinitely
more refined oil Americans are used to -- what experts call
"Princeton" oil.
Forming a disabled bird on the field, the Band denounced this foam-borne
filth.
(Band forms a blob)
Speaking of disasters, there's always Jimmy Carter.
It looks like the only thing he'll beat in 1980 are defenseless bunny
rabbits.
Meanwhile Ted Kennedy, riding high on a wave of "draft the senator"
movements, contends that he is only testing the waters.
With dissension growing, both parties are looking westward to the land
of milk and Rodstadt, home of the Brown side-step and the Reagan shuffle.
We only hope the country wakes up from this political nightmare.
(Band changes a Carter smile into a frown)
The biggest visual disaster this summer was the exposure of the
Ivy League
on the pages of Playboy magazine.
It is unclear to us why the photographers chose to include the
livestock of
Cornell, sludge from the Charles at Hahvahd, and especially those
bacterial cultures at New Haven, when so many likely prospects graze the
Princeton and Dartmouth campuses.
Still, we in the Band feel that it was a disgusting, degrading, and
exploitative move on the part of Playboy Incorporated...to raise
the price to $2.50 for the September issue.
(Band forms a Playboy foldout)
"National Emblem"
And now stay tuned for a real live disaster, the Dartmouth Marching Band.
RUTGERS
September 29, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Marching Band takes a long, hard look at The Changing Face of Princeton.
A recent cosmetic addition to campus is the
installation
of yet another piece of art in the Putnam sculptural collection.
Pigeons have been dropping by all week and a pleased spokesman for
Princeton's dog community said, "Ruff, ruff, ruff, RUFF."
Joining Jacques Lipschitz' "Flying Fortification" and
Picasso's excellent
"Head of Woman," this addition throws up another obstacle to
frequenters of the pub.
Forming "Oval with Points," the Band salutes these strangers in the
night.
(Band forms Oval with Points)
High up in your dorm,
late at night, when the roaches have eaten every last
ounce of your junk food, and Nassau Hall is bonging two a.m., you begin
to hear the call of the Wawa.
(Band makes jungle noises.)
Rolling down University Place at a fast clip, your eyes light up as
you rush in and see the Fritos and Lays potato chips.
Forming the Nabisco triangle on the field, the Band salutes this 24-hour
institution.
(Band forms a triangle)
The biggest change on the face of Princeton would be the adoption of
Andy Brown's answer to Yale, the CURL Report.
Nothing if not a controversial plan, CURL's detractors
claim it fascist, while
its supporters see it as a democratic utopia.
The Curl debate is getting hairy and the Band offers its own
solution: Lake Carnegie Boathouse College, with running water in every
room.
No ifs, but oars, it will be the best thing since the Princeton Inn.
(Band changes 'CURL' to 'CREW')
And now, bringing a smile to the face of Princeton, here's
"The Washington Post."
(Band forms three lines and marches off at the trio)
BROWN
October 6, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at Nukes.
One of the scariest fallouts of the "nukes are nice" philosophy is
the possibility of nuclear theft, and the construction of a home-made
A-bomb.
Remarkably little radioactive material is needed -- a mere ten grams
would suffice to level Kansas; four grams would convert New York City
to a foul, dirty,
dangerous pit where no one in his right mind would live;
one gram in the water supply could disorient millions; and Providence,
Rhode Island, could be wiped off the face of the planet with two
firecrackers and a well-placed kick.
Hoping you have a finished basement, the Band says, "see you six
feet under."
(Band forms huddle, then rainbow)
A spicy issue this summer has been Senate ratification of the SALT II
accords.
Carter's sweet dreams of shaking a victory out of Congress have not yet
crystallized.
Seasoned opposition has soured the President's plans in this embittered
battle.
Tossing his pride over his shoulder, Carter has been left at the
negotiating table asking feebly but politely, "please pass the
SALT."
When it rains, Mr. President, it pours!
(Band forms umbrella)
Glowing with pride after a narrowly averted disaster, the booming
town of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania is cooling down.
This despite overheated reaction to a core of events which hung over
their heads like a dark cloud last March.
With hats off to the boys at the Nuclear Regulatory Commission and their
novel solution to the problem of unsightly facial hair, the Band forms:
- a)
- Three-Mile Island
- b)
- Five-Mile Crater
- c)
- Jane Fonda's new hairdo
- d)
- a mushroom...pizza, or
- e)
- Nuke the Brown Band
(Band forms a mushroom)
And now the Band fuses into a high-energy musical group.
(Band forms three lines)
And now, the biggest bomb of all, the Brown University Band.
COLUMBIA
October 13, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Marching Band takes a long, hard look at Ten Years of Women at Princeton.
1969 was a year of big events.
Man made it on the moon, Nixon made it to Washington,
and women made it at
Princeton.
Suddently, liquor became more than a weekend pastime, Holder became
more than the name of a dorm, and Henry and 1901 didn't have to, well,
you know.
The Band salutes 1969 and its beatiful addition to the Princeton campus.
(Band forms '69)
Although women have graced the Princeton campus for these ten
glorious years, it was not until 1979 that they were judged good-looking
enough to interest Playboy Magazine.
Despite being surrounded by an ever-tightening web of slick opposition,
Playboy
photographers remained firm in their resolve to offer
entertainment for men, degredation for women, and $400 for a full frontal
pose.
Forming what's under that stack of Time
and New Yorker magazines, the Band
asks those of you who snuck out and bought the September issue to
stand up and cheer.
(Band forms a Playboy bunny)
Things have progressed greatly since that magical year, but the
women of Princeton are still greatly outnumbered.
With two men and a math major to every woman, most coeds will have their
fill of Princeton men in four years, while many underclass men watch
the sex lives slip through their fingers.
Looking to a brighter future for sex ratios at Princeton, the Band
warns the admissions staff that if they don't stop, they'll go
sex blind.
(Band forms glasses)
[CFD promotional announcement]
(Band forms 'CFD')
COLGATE
October 20, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Marching Band takes a long, hard look at the continuing soap opera, "As the Tiger Turns."
When we left wide-eyed Sue Pyne at the end of last week's show, she had
just splashed down in soggy New Jersey.
Freshman Week, out beloved space cadet set out in search of the true
Princeton Experience.
At the Union party, she met senior Phillips Andover Hotchkiss VII.
He wined her and dined her at Lahiere's, he clothed her at Landau's,
and, when they got really close, the showed her his carrel at Woody Woo.
But she couldn't measure up to his high standards.
His sweaters were imported, his wine was imported, and alas, so were
his women.
(Band forms a preppie striped belt complete with alligator)
Turned away from the world of docksiders and monogrammed
sweaters, sophomore
Sue Pyne found herself in the bulging biceps of a "hunk," er, that
is, a "tree," er, better make that an "athlete-scholar."
He was a thirteen-letter man, learning more letters each week.
She taught him 'P'.
She was his most ardent supporter, but he spent too much time
practicing with the other guys.
Alas, she got tired of the ping pong table every weekend and left
him blowin' in the wind.
(Band forms a pair of goalposts and "kicks" a ball over them)
In her junior year at Princeton, Sue longed for intellectual stimulation.
Pulling an all-nighter at the E-Quad, she stumbled upon
T.I. Hewlett Packard '51A.
It was love at near sight.
he was cold and calculating, she was Ever ready.
She played rock 'n roll, he rewired her speakers.
She offered him drugs, he did a titration.
She mentioned sex, but it did not compute.
Alas, this terminal relationship proved to be little more than a waste
of valuable computer time.
(Band forms calculator)
After our heroine turned off her engineer boyfriend, Sue became obsessed
with a fantasy of the "perfect man."
She wanted someone who knew the score, was adept at any formation,
someone who could walk and chew gum at the same time.
She found it, ladies and gentlemen, and you'll find it too: the
Princeton University Marching Band.
- Band:
- Knock knock!
- Announcer:
- Who's there?
- Band:
- Anita!
- Announcer:
- Anita who?
(Band forms 'PUB' and marches off during second chorus)
Will Sue Pyne find true happiness in the real world?
Will she find the real world?
And...what about Naomi?
(dramatic pause)
What's that you say?
You want more?
Well, OK!
(Band forms 'I LOVE PU')
"Basin Street Blues"
"Liberty Bell"
(Band plays last two songs in a concert shell, marching off during the last strains of "Liberty Bell")
HAHVAHD
October 27, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Marching Band takes a long, hard look at the Cambridge Syndrome.
Morning breaks over the Charles.
It's a day not unlike any other.
The last Wellesley girl has caught her bus.
Your roomate has taken out the Globe and brought
in the trash.
It's time to get up and walk the Cliffie.
But all is not calm in Cambridge.
A strange glow engulfs the campus.
The temperature rises and flamers are seen all over Harvard.
Noses have turned skyward.
The core curriculum has melted down again.
(Band forms a blob which explodes into CH4)
Somewhere in the bowels of Harvard Yard a phone rings.
Ace janitor Derek Bok
rushes to pick it up only to hear a strange, eerie sub-human
voice at the other end saying, "PAHK the CAH at HAHVAHD YAHD"
(read in a real Harvard jerk-off voice....honest Madge, that's what
Harrison told me to write).
Recognizing the Senator's voice, Bok tries to hang up, but the former law
student runs on, commanding, "Mr. Bok, report to the bridge at
once."
(Band forms a star)
Boldly going where no man has gone before, Bok races
around the Harvard campus, immediately recognizing the symptoms
of the dreadful syndrome.
Forming:
- a)
- delusions of grandeur
- b)
- confusions of gender
- c)
- profusions of MIT women
- d)
- Princeton envy, or
- e)
- f)
- New Haven anyway,
the Band suggests that you all get out while you can.
(Band forms 'F YALE')
But don't worry, we're just kidding.
Everyone knows there are no breeders in Cambridge.
(Band forms a big-time double wavy line and marches off, impressively)
PENN
November 3, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at Using Your Imagination.
Everyone who lives in Philadelphia uses their imagination; mostly to
imagine they are living
somewhere else, like Palm Springs, Miami Beach, or
Pittsburgh.
So why don't you use yours too?
Imaginee that instead of freezing here today, you are in that fertile,
floral paradise: the Garden State of New Jersey.
(Band forms a flower)
Everyone in Philadelphia also imagines that their beloved mayor Rizzo
will actually leave office when his term expires.
The mayor himself is planning, with his friends Vito, Luigi, and
Don Corleone to have Philadelphia secede from the Union and form the
Grand Duchy of Rizzolio, based on truth, pasta, and the Sicilian way.
The Band, however, has found that the mayor will be taking a new position
in a noted state institution.
(Band forms the bars of a prison)
Penn students use their imagination a lot too.
And it takes a lot of
imagination to believe that Penn is in the Ivy league.
There's also the imaginary Penn ice hockey team, the imaginary Penn radio
station, and of course the imaginary Penn football team.
(Band forms a football)
Imagine that this is Big-Time football.
You're watching the first all-Ivy League Rose Bowl.
And here is the world famous, All-American, 250-strong, Princeton
University Marching Band.
(Band forms a 'P')
Now, for your own good, try to imagine that the Penn band is not
playing here today.
YALE
November 10, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Marching Band takes a long, hard look at Sixty Years of Marching, Music, and Mirth: The Story of the Princeton Band.
(Three people limp out: a tuba, a drum, and a piccolo)
At first the band was a small, but famous group (the three lie down and
form a 'P').
Its problems were obvious
(Band starts running on).
For one thing, there was no football, and no halftime
(Band walks off in disgust).
But in 1869, Princeton invented football (Band runs on, gleefully).
But there was still no halftime (Band walks off again).
So in 1920, Princeton invented halftime entertainment (Band runs on
again and forms a birthday cake), and the rest of the Ivy League still
hasn't caught on.
That was no ordinary afternoon in 1920.
It was Princeton's season opening, and people eagerly awaited a hotly
contested match.
It was halftime and neither team had been able to score.
The game was tight and something was needed to relieve the mounting
tension.
Suddenly, an orange and black clump was spotted in the middle of the
field.
Music filled Palmer Stadium.
Giggling was heard, then laughter.
Then raptured cries of joy.
The Princeton University Band had arrived.
(Band forms a Princeton shield)
God only knows when the Yale band was started, but then only God knows
why the Yale band was started.
Let's face it, not even God knows why Yale was
started.
After all, He did go to Princeton.
Times have changed, but some things still remain the same.
The Harvard band still has its bass drum and the Yale band still has
its violins, but the Princeton Band still has its class.
So for many years to come, we'll proudly begin each week:
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Marching Band!"
(Band forms P.U. BAND and marches off at the trio)
[NB - During the trio of Stars and Stripes a group of Princeton students jogged around Palmer Stadium with the Yale bulldog, whom they had absconded with (oh Hell, they just plain stole him) a few days before.]
CORNELL
November 17, 1979
Ladies and gentlemen, the Princeton University Band takes a long, hard look at Ancient History.
When man first mastered the tools he had at hand, he entered what we call
the Stone Age.
Examples of Stone Age activity can be found outside Paris, in France;
at Stonehenge, in England; and just outside Ithaca, in upstate New York.
Typical Stone Age pasttimes were beating animals, women, and rocks
into submission with large wooden clubs.
When this became boring, he domesticated the animals and women, threw
rocks at one another, and discovered fire, which was quickly banned
as a hazardous heat-producing device.
Cavemen caught toasting their meat were subject to disciplinary
action -- usually in the form of selective clubbing or confiscation of
the animals and women.
(Band forms a wooden club)
After the Stone Age, came,
in quick succesion, the Iron Age, the Copper Age, and
the Bronze Age.
The smelting of these metals made possible the
seven wonders of the ancient
dorm room -- including the Curling Iron, the Adjustable Hot Pot, the
Fountains of Popcorn, the Collosus of Toast, and the Hanging Gardens
of Extension Cords.
Then entered the Golden Age of Regulations, and with it the
Princeton Fire Code, which threatens to hurl mankind back into the Stone
Age -- or worse still, into the uncivilized limbo of
disciplinary probation.
Trembling with fear on the field, the Band wonders
what will be banned next.
(Band forms a blow drier)
After the first ten years of the seige of Troy,
the Greeks made a huge horse.
Not suspecting that fifty Greek soldiers had gotten inside,
the weary Trojans
pulled it in their city.
That night, the Greeks slid out of the horse and opened the gates of Troy
so the rest of the Greeks could get in.
With their protective wall broken, the Trojans could no longer contain
the powerful onrush of the Greeks.
Men and women learned from the sack of Troy that accidents do happen,
and the spirit of Troy lives on in the hearts, minds, and wallets of
millions.
Forming:
- a)
- the head of the Trojan horse
- b)
- the middle of the Trojan horse
- c)
- Andy Brown
the Band plays, "The Horse."
(Band forms a horse's head)
Following the Greeks were the Romans, the great lawgivers.
The the rigid rules of the Pax Romana grated on some, the dreaded sword
of the Codus Incendi cooled down the hot beds of insurrection which
threatened the Empire.
Emperor Andus, the bearded terror of Universitasis Princetoniansis,
ruthlessly threw thousands of hot pot hiders to the Deans, claiming,
"I like to fiddle around as well as the next guy, but heat-producing
devices really burn me up."
Forming Emperor Angus' shield, the Flaming A, the Band toasts his
goal of cold cereal for all.
(Band forms an A surrounded by flames)
Speaking of Ancient History, when was the last time Cornell
won the Ivies?
When was the last time Yale turned down a football recruit?
When was the last time Andy Brown walked to the Student
Center for a cup of coffee?
And speaking of the heights of western culture, when was the last time
you beheld a sight as awesome and inspiring as the Princeton University
Marching Band?
"The Orange and the Black"
(Band forms a block band and is then surrounded by the high school bands)
"Goin' Back"
(Band forms a Double Rotating P and executes a perfect double rippled
tip of the hat to end yet another fine season of music, marching,
merriment, and mirth.)