In the fall of 2001 I was the drum major of the Princeton University Band. For those of you unfamiliar with the PUB, it may help to know that it’s more The State than Ohio State. Unlike “traditional” drum majors, I didn’t do any conducting (that fall, conducting duties were handled by the woman who is now my fiancée). Mostly, my role was to run field rehearsals, write humorous half-time show scripts, and walk at the front of the band when it happened to be walking (we didn’t march) somewhere.
There are a few traditional high points for every Princeton Drum Major – In the spring, you lead the P-rade of alumni through campus in front of thousands of adoring fans, in the fall you get to lead the band onto the field during the home “Big Three” game. I was lucky enough to have a couple of others – including traveling with the basketball team to the NCAA tournament in New Orleans, and walking with Shirley Tilghman at the head of the band at a celebration of her installation as University President. All of these moments were wonderful, but one unique experience stands out among all the others.
Each October, the band, whose orange and black plaid blazers are its trademark, leads the first wave of the Greenwich Village Halloween parade. The parade truly has to be seen to be believed. The line between spectators and participants blurs completely as giant puppets, street performers, musicians, and thousands of costumed revelers all take to the streets of lower Manhattan to celebrate art, life, and each other as well as the holiday.
In the days after the attacks, the area below 14th Street was closed off, and the status of the parade, which runs right through the heart of this “frozen zone,” was very much in doubt. Thankfully, a few weeks later, I received an email letting me know that the parade was going on as scheduled. All of us were looking forward to it, but none of us really knew what to expect.
As it turned out, the parade became Lower Manhattan’s coming out party. It was the first large-scale event to occur downtown, and a chance for the community to say to the country and to the world that no matter what hardships they face, they will continue to thrive. Everyone seemed to know instinctively that New Yorkers would pull through, but this was one of their first chances to show that they were stronger than ever.
When we arrived at the staging area we warmed up and assembled on the street behind the metal fences the separated the various waves of the parade, and kept the crowd bottled up until they were released up 6th avenue. On the other side of the fence were about a dozen members of the NYPD.
There had been a lot of talk about heroes over the past few weeks, and now here they were in the flesh. Looking at them, you wouldn’t have known the unimaginable things they must have seen over the past few weeks, or how many hours they must have worked, or how many friends, colleagues, and loved ones they must have lost. They were then, as they were on day of the attacks, just doing their jobs. In years past, people would line up to have their picture taken with the guys dressed up as Star Wars Storm Troopers, this year, most of the Storm Troopers were having their pictures taken with the cops.
As the sun sets, the crowd grows, and we start playing for the people lined up behind us. Part of the fun of the parade is the set list of “party tunes” that we play – Rock Lobster, The Time Warp, and Tequila are perennial crowd favorites. The excitement of the crowd, and the energy of the music grows until it is time to open the gates and start journey from Spring Street to 23rd.
Though the parade route is long, it always seems to go by quickly. The electricity of the crowd, lined 5 or 6 deep on either side of the street, is intoxicating. Those marching in the parade always wander amongst the band to dance, sing, and sometimes even play along. At one point we were joined by a particularly flamboyant throng, and I couldn’t help but think how much it would piss off Osama Bin Laden to have a dozen transvestites shouting “Tequila” while walking through the very streets he had tried so hard to destroy.
The tremendous joy of that evening was mixed with the hope that the nation would emerge stronger in the face of adversity. Five years later, we are still working toward that goal. What made this parade so special was the shared sense that we were part of something beyond just ourselves. That, I think, is the sense that is going to drive every step we take toward achieving the kind of country that we want to be.
It is no doubt important that we all find our own way to honor and remember this day. In the weeks after 9/11, the band was asked to play “God Bless America” a number of times at football games and other events. It can be a moving song, but for my money, its got nothing on “Tequila”.
