Memories of the 1984 Olympic Band

It has become something of a running joke in my family that 1984 was the high water mark year in my life, as I frequently look back on it with great fondness, rehashing the same annoying stories with delight and nostalgia.

After all, that was the year I graduated from my beloved University of Southern California, and then, that Fall, went to work at one of my favorite places in the world, the Interlochen Center for the Arts in Michigan. That move changed my life, as it was at Interlochen that I found my calling in life (to be a pastor, but that's another story for another post). 

But it was what happened that summer that made it a truly unforgettable year. The 1984 Olympics were held right there in Los Angeles, with USC at the center of the festivities!

The Olympic Organizing Committee had formed what they called the Olympic All American Band to perform in the Opening Ceremonies. It consisted of 736 band members and silks (tall flags), led by legendary USC Band Director Dr. Arthur C. Bartner (seen above), with about one quarter of that giant ensemble comprised of students from each of the 50 states.

The rest of the band consisted of members of local university marching bands - especially USC and UCLA (a rare moment of unity between those bitter rivals!). And even though I was graduating that Spring, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to participate in that once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum was literally across the street from USC, and that's where we would be performing for the world on July 28, 1984. But for the prior two weeks, the band was housed at Pepperdine University, just up the coast in Malibu, which is where we put our show together.

Here are a few photos from our time at Pepperdine, where I remember having a blast, but also being more tired than I think I have ever been in my life!

While I was just a tad late in taking the photo above (we had spelled out "Tuba" with our Sousaphones during our break, which you can still sort of see, although some of the horns had now been moved), this is probably the best place to note that the tuba section was, I think, 46 strong (at least that's how many you can see in the photo at the top of this post). And, of course, we made t-shirts!

Our King Sousaphones were built for the event, with their bell's emblazoned in two different places with the 1984 Olympic "stars in motion" logo - one on the lower left side of the bell, and the other at the top center of the bell's face:

They were beautiful horns that played great, but the challenge for us was to keep them looking brand new over the two weeks of intense, all-day marching rehearsals, and long evening music rehearsals. Our extra bed sheets proved helpful in this pursuit, as you can see on the part of one of my friends:

Following our whirlwind preparations at Pepperdine, we shifted our practices to the Coliseum:

The biggest challenge, when it came to protecting our horns, was practicing our grand entrance through the narrow tunnels around the entire seating section of the Coliseum:

At some point along the way, we met with composer John Williams - and I think it was in the old swimming stadium right next to the Coliseum - with whom we practiced his now iconic Olympic Fanfare & Theme. 

Then it was time for the dress rehearsal, during which a few select family members or friends were able to attend. My Dad, I think it was, took this photo - and I believe that's me, just right of center:

One of the things you'll notice is the well-worn lines on the field. Without football yard lines, or hash lines, we needed a reference point for our formations. This was accomplished by securing three inch diameter plastic circles, each with its own reference code and roughly the color of grass, all across the field - evenly spaced, of course.

Here is one of the markers I took home with me after our dress rehearsal (since we would no longer need them), as well as me in my full Opening Ceremonies uniform:

After our dress rehearsal, and because the grass had been so worn down, with brown lines everywhere we had marched, the entire field was spray-painted green to try to hide those lines. And "try" is the operative word, as you can see below.

But then the day arrived - the Opening Ceremonies of the Games of the XXIIIrd Olympiad! The following photos show the view from my parent's seats. It was a gorgeous, sunny southern California day!

As we began, the Sousaphones emerged out of their cramped tunnel!

And here's a video of the entire Opening Ceremonies - our portion runs from 19:14 until about 1:08:00, complete with commercial breaks!

Once our portion was done, we made our way out of the stadium so that all of the athletes could make their way in. But since I was near the very end of our long line exiting the main tunnel (seen at the lower right in the photo below), I got to see this amazing card stunt that went all around the stadium, showing the flags of all of the participating countries:

And then we headed back to our buses, and back to Pepperdine:

For most of the band members, that was the end of their experience until the Closing Ceremonies. But for a few of us, the fun continued throughout the two weeks of the Games themselves. I was selected as one of two tuba players to perform each day at the swimming and diving venue:

Our seats were right next to the medal stands, which you can see at the top of the photo. And our most popular piece of music when we were entertaining the crowd? The main theme from Ghost Busters, a movie that had just been released that year! I still have my chart:

And here's the view of the pools from my seat right behind the drum set:

The director of that small band was Ken Dye, who was connected with USC at that time (and arranged the above piece for us), but who has for years now been the band director at Notre Dame. Here's the photo of the whole group, which Ken used as his Christmas card later that year. I'm the one with the Sousaphone in the back right, while Mike Angelos is next to me with his concert tuba.

And here we are goofing around on the medal stands during one of our breaks (that's me in the middle, and Bob Hasty on the left). 

We had a lot of down time in between competitions, so one day we decided to follow some of the swimmers back into the Olympic Village, which was the USC campus, after their practice. We went through the security check point without a hitch (although we learned on our way out that our tags should not have worked!) and found ourselves briefly living the life of an Olympic athlete.

When the Olympics were over, we received this keepsake pool tile:

We even received an Olympic medal (seriously!) for being a part of the Olympic All American Band! Here's mine, along with a few of the pins I collected during those weeks:

And here's the letter I received a couple of weeks after the Games had come to a close:

While we didn't get to keep our Sousaphones, I do still have the uniform we wore in the Opening Ceremonies, as well as the colorful shirts we wore at the swimming and diving stadium. Someday, I suppose, my grandkids will find them fascinating (now all I need are grandkids!).

And at that point, my annoying stories about 1984 will torture a new generation!

Crossing a serpent with a Sousaphone

In trying to track down references to giant tubas built by Pierre-Louis Gautrot, I stumbled upon this cartoon in the September 7, 1867 edition of Le Monde Illustre. The caption reads, "The Prussian music being very certainly inspired by the group of Laocoon."

The reference is to a famous statue, seen on the right, depicting the myth of the Trojan priest Laocoon and his sons being attacked by giant serpents.

I'm guessing this is poking fun at the large helicon basses used in Prussian military bands at that time. But, to me, it kind of looks like a cross between the ancient bass horn known as a serpent and an upright bell, or original, Sousaphone (although, granted, the Sousaphone was still a couple of decades away from being invented!).

Here is the original statue, which reportedly goes back to the first century B.C., on display at the Vatican (photo courtesy of Douglas Yeo):

The World's Largest Tuba? Nope!

Over the years, the status of "World's Largest Tuba" has been claimed for many monster basses, including in this recent Fodor's article:

The enticing opening paragraph reads as follows:

And number one on their list is a truly great tuba - however it is not really a tuba, but just looks like one (the valves are dummies, so it is just a giant bugle), nor, as it turns out, is it what the heading claims:

Yes, it is known as "Big Carl," because it has resided with Carl Fischer in New York City since it was shipped to that company by Bohland & Fuchs in 1912. And it spent much of its life lurking over passer-bys in the street-level windows of Carl Fischer's store on Cooper Square. Here's one example from way back in 1921, where the claim of being "The World's Largest Bass Horn" was already being touted:

This towering tuba remains in the hands of Carl Fischer Music, residing currently in the administrative offices of the company in the Wall Street area. The Foder's article provides a link to this brief video, featuring Carol Jantsch, tubist with the Philadelphia Orchestra, playing a few notes on this colossal creation:

But my current research has proven that "Big Carl" is roughly three feet shorter than what is truly "The World's Largest Tuba," a massive 52-ft Eb Saxhorn bourdon built by Adolphe Sax around 1851. Sadly, that monster is long since lost, but this one photo of it remains, from around 1878:

This, my friends, is our winner - with all due respect to "Big Carl"! (Click here for a brief description of all known subcontrabass tubas, ranked by size, as well as photos of most of them).

Gallery: Known Subcontrabass Tubas

 According to my research, there have been at least twelve subcontrabass tubas to grace this planet over the years. They are all impressive, but here is my ranking, by size, of these monsters:

1. Giant Saxhorn Bourdon - Adolphe Sax, 1851

Photo courtesy of AIAS Dinant, family bequest - taken in 1878 or later

• Key: 52 ft Eb
• Valves: 3 piston
• Height: about 10 ft
• Weight: reportedly 298 lbs!
• Bell diameter: 39-40 in
• Fully functional
• Apparently hasn't survived

2. Trombotonar - Gustave-Auguste Besson, 1855

• No known photograph
• Key: 52 ft Eb
• Valves: 3 piston
• Height: about 10 ft
• Weight: unknown
• Bell diameter: 39-40 in
• Fully functional
• Apparently hasn't survived

3. Riesen Kontrabass - Bohland & Fuchs, 1912?

Photo courtesy of Amati-Denak, Kraslice, Czech Republic

• Key: 36 ft Bb
• Valves: 4 rotary (functional, but out of reach!)
• Height: about 8 ft (one report says 7 ft 10.5 in)
• Weight: 125 lbs
• Bell diameter: 45 in
• Fully functional, but requires two people (and note oversized mouthpiece)
• Resides in the Amati-Denak factory, Czech Republic
• Here's a short video of it being played

4. Monster Bb - Henry Distin, 1862

• No known photograph
• Key: 36 ft Bb, although this is just a guess; it's possible this is not a subcontrabass tuba, but the reported height suggests that it might be
• Valves: 3 piston
• Height: reportedly "nearly 8 feet tall"
• Weight: unknown
• Bell diameter: unknown
• Fully functional
• Apparently hasn't survived

5. "Big Carl" - Bohland & Fuchs, 1912

Steve Dillon, Matt Walters, and another Dillon Music worker in 2014 (courtesy of Steve Dillon)

• Key: 36 ft Bb
• Valves: 3 piston, but dummies
• Height: 7 ft 9 in
• Weight: 137 lbs (although not confirmed)
• Bell diameter: 40.5 in
• Not fully functional (essentially a giant bugle)
• Resides at the administrative offices of Carl Fischer in NYC

6. Big Carl's Twin - Bohland & Fuchs, 1912

Photo courtesy of Margaret Banks, National Music Museum - taken in 1942

• Key: 36 ft Bb
• Valves: 3 piston, but dummies
• Height: 7 ft 9 in
• Weight: 137 lbs (although not confirmed)
• Bell diameter: 40.5 in
• Not fully functional (essentially a giant bugle)
• Destroyed to recycle its materials for the war effort in 1942

7. The Harvard Tuba - F. Besson & Co., 1889

Steve Dillon and myself in 2019 at Dillon Music

• Key: 36 ft Bb
• Valves: 3 piston
• Height: 6 ft 11 in
• Weight: 88 lbs
• Bell diameter: 31.5 in
• Fully functional (restored by Dillon Music in 2019)
• Resides in the Harvard Band Room

8. Markneukirchen Riesentuba - (various), 2010

Photo courtesy of Arnold Myers, seen here examining the tuba in 2019

• Key: 36 ft Bb
• Valves: 4 rotary
• Height: 6 ft 9 in
• Weight: 110 lbs
• Bell diameter: 34.6 in
• Fully functional
• Resides in the Musikinstrumenten Museum, Markneukirchen, Germany

9. Horniman Besson - Besson & Co., late 1800s

Photo courtesy of Clifford Bevan, seen here at the Horniman in 2001

• Key: 36 ft Bb
• Valves: 3 piston, but dummies
• Height: 6 ft 5 in
• Weight: 112 lbs
• Bell diameter: 32 in
• Not fully functional (essentially a giant bugle)
• Resides at the Horniman Museum in London

10. Slender Saxhorn Bourdon - Adolphe Sax, 1851

Photo courtesy of the Royal Collection Trust, UK - taken in 1851

• Barely seen in the back left of the display case above (and yes, we can see a somewhat shorter one in the back middle, but I'm pretty sure that's not a subcontrabass)
• Key: 36 ft Bb
• Valves: 3 piston (assumed)
• Height: about 8-9 ft
• Weight: unknown
• Bell diameter: 23 in
• Fully functional
• Apparently hasn't survived

11. Hoffnung Tuba - Rudolph Sander, 1899

Photo from a 1956 newspaper article showing Gerard Hoffnung and his wife

• Key: 32 ft C
• Valves: 3 rotary
• Height: 5 ft 2 in
• Weight: reportedly around 100 lbs
• Bell diameter: 41 in
• Fully functional
• Resides in a private collection in the U.S.

12. Shorter Saxhorn Bourdon - Adolphe Sax, 1855

Photo courtesy of Henri Selmer, Paris

• Key: 26 ft Eb (so technically a contrabass)
• Valves: 3 piston
• Height: about 6 ft
• Weight: unknown
• Bell diameter: 22 in
• Fully functional
• Resides at the Henri Selmer Museum, Paris