What made Stanford the most banned marching band in the country

An overview of some of the Stanford band's most infamous moments. Here, the mellophones play on others backs during a postgame rally at band reunion game. An overview of some of the Stanford band's most infamous moments. Here, the mellophones play on others backs during a postgame rally at band reunion game. Photo: Robby Beyers / Courtesy Stanford University Archives Photo: Robby Beyers / Courtesy Stanford University Archives Image 1 of / 38 Caption Close What made Stanford the most banned marching band in the country 1 / 38 Back to Gallery

College football season is just underway, but at Stanford, the action isn’t on the field.

One glance at the sidelines and you might lose track of the game entirely, amid the full body suits, brightly painted tubas, and frantic dance moves of the Stanford band. In fact, they might not look like a band at all if not for the instruments, which are — except for the occasional stop sign or kitchen sink substituted for a snare drum — mostly real musical instruments. And if you look long enough you’ll catch the dancing tree, Stanford’s unofficial mascot.

These are the oddities that have come to represent the Leland Stanford Junior University Marching Band (LSJUMB). The aesthetic irreverence is accompanied by a long history of on-field pranks, and off-field controversies that have gotten the band banned not only from a handful of other schools, but also by their own.

But there was a time when the Stanford band wasn’t so wacky, or even unusual at all. Until the mid-60s, it marched in regular, military order, until beloved director Jules Schucat was fired. This sparked rebellion, ultimately leading Schucat’s successor to hand authority over to student leaders. Thus, the birth of the notoriously self-driven marching band, that thrives on the combined fuel of individual spirit and satirical whimsy, with a good dose of goof.

The student-run portion of the band sets it apart from other schools, where band directors are all-powerful; on the Stanford Farm, the band writes its own music, half-time shows and even trains its own musicians.

"Anyone can join LSJUMB, so long as they want to learn and participate," former band member, Dan Ruprecht wrote to SFGATE. He had never played drums before coming to Stanford, and by 2016 he was playing a snare drum at the Rose Bowl.

That was the Rose Bowl when Stanford outraged Iowa City, and drove the Rose Bowl to reevaluate its standards after the band’s halftime show. In it, LSJUMB formed the shape of a farmer and brought out band members dressed as a large cow as part of a gag about opponent Iowa’s farmland and Stanford’s nickname “The Farm.” For this, they got boos from the Iowa crowd and stirred general social media discontent.

But the Iowa prank barely registers in the larger scope of the band’s halftime antics, which have ranged from amusing to politically progressive, or, mildly distasteful to downright offensive.

One particularly notorious stunt got the band banned from the entire state of Oregon in 1990. At the time, Oregon was involved in a debate that pitted environmentalists against the logging industry, which was destroying the habitat of the threatened spotted owl. The band formed a chainsaw that spelled out “OWL,” transforming into “AWOL.” Oregon governor, Neil Goldschmidt ordered that they not return — though as it turns out, that’s not something in his legal authority to do.

Their irreverence has gotten them in trouble, not only with other schools, but also their own. In 2015, the band got in trouble for alleged violations of Stanford’s alcohol and sexual harassment policies and was not allowed to play at away games. The following year involved internal and external reevaluations of band behavior. But tensions rose as LSJUMB still wasn’t allowed onto the field by the end of 2016, engendering outbursts of frustration from students against the administration.

That’s when Russell Gavin came in. In 2016, he was hired to be the director of the band, an acting liaison between the band and the administration. This position was like being put between a Tree and a hard place. To prepare, he did thorough research, learning everything about the band since 1963.

That means he knows the AWOL OWL, and why the band was banned from Notre Dame in 1991… and 1997. And he knows about the band’s most famous, unplanned prank that took place during the 1982 “Big Game” versus Bay Area rival, Cal. In “The Play,” LSJUMB prematurely rushed the field in celebration, allowing Cal’s running back to scramble into the endzone with 4 seconds left to play, securing a grizzly defeat over Stanford.

To this day, they poke fun at themselves for The Play. Then again, they make fun of anything.

But what students see as fun-loving, the administration often sees as not-great-for-their-reputation. Take the 2004 appearance that got the band sent away from the Church of Latter-Day Saints-affiliated Brigham Young University. In it, the band’s assistant manager proposed to all of the Dollies, the band’s five-woman dance team, while the announcer expounded on the sacred bond "between a man and a woman and a woman and a woman and a woman.”

This is what makes Gavin's job so difficult. He’s a part of a review committee that approves the halftime show jokes, and also is the band’s main advocate with the administration.

“As a student, what authority do you have?” he says. “That’s the fear, at least.” He sees it as his job to make the band feel like it has a voice.

Part of empowerment involves helping them write their scripts. “Satire written poorly is just bad satire,” he says, describing his editing process as more stylistic than content-focused (though, he refrained to comment on the extent to which he has limited the band’s jokes).

If halftime shows seem to have mellowed out recently, it could be due to Gavin's guidance, or perhaps, to tightened restrictions by the review committee. Or maybe, the past few years have offered easier political targets (See: the Space Force suit recently donned at season opener against San Diego State, or the cease and desist letter band members sent to President Trump in 2016 for using their signature song “All Right Now” to announce Pence’s appointment as vice president).

Still, Gavin emphasizes that his main role is musical—to teach instruments, and help members teach each other. The thing he remembers most about when he first met the Stanford band was just how jazzed they were to play music. That, and their costumes. “It’s hard to miss a banana playing a trumpet,” the former Baylor music director laughs.

And when you talk to them, band members focus less on politics and more on their tight-knit community. “My guess would be that every student has some story about the band, whether as a player or listener,” Drew Bassilakis wrote to SFGATE. It would be hard not to—LSJUMB can often be found playing an impromptu rendition of “American Idiot” outside Green Library, led by a drum major dressed up like Bellatrix Lestrange or the boy in "Up."

"To top it off, we have built one of Stanford’s most well-known communities," Bassilakis adds. "From the inside, though, the most important things about band are its inclusivity and warmth."

A big part of this community is alumni (or, as the band calls them, "Old Fartz"). Merlin MacGillivray, class of 2020, remembers the time a group of band members drove for hours in order to perform at an alum’s wedding: "The fact that so many people … were willing to sacrifice their night for the wedding of an old member is representative of what I love about the band community: that we are absurd and extra and also dedicated and kind."

MacGillivray will be filling his new role as tenor saxophone section leader ("Tenrz sexion") for the second time this season on Saturday, at Stanford’s home game against USC.

According to Russell Gavin, this year the band is planning to make more dramatic entrances at home games than they have in the past. As if more drama is what the band needs.

"The newest thing we hope people will be diggin’ is the entrance into the stadium," he says.

Other than that, the USC game will involve "nothing especially atypical," Gavin claims. "But then again the nature of the group is that it is not always predictable," he adds with just a hint of apprehension.

Emma Heath is a SFGATE staff writer and a recent Stanford alum (though not of the band). Email her with comments or questions at emma.heath@sfchronicle.com. Twitter @emmabheath