Features
Bangers, Blowers, and Bob
Bangers, Blowers, and Bob:
The Lesbian and Gay Big Apple Corps Turns 25
by Cynthia Potts
For
future reference, St. Patrick's Day may not be the ideal time to contact
the manager of the premier Gay Marching Band in New York State. Jim Babcock
is a busy man, sharing his thoughts on the band while traversing snowy
streets on the way to catch the train.
"We've got our bangers - the
percussion people - and our blowers. They play the wind instruments,"
he explained. "The band has two functions, performing at concerts
as well as at marching events. These aren't only gay pride events, but
they mostly are." The Big Apple Corp puts on three concerts a year,
and participates in "an average of 10 marching events," Babcock
continued. "We travel throughout the East. Boston, DC, and of course,
we hit Burlington every other year."
Babcock continued, "The band
has grown so much. We owe our existence to Bob - he's a father figure
of sorts. In a way, we're all his descendants, reaping the benefits of
what he started."
Bob is Robert Wolff, regular OITM
contributor and professional theater and sound designer. "I was a
band man in high school," he explained. "It was always a lot
of fun. Then I went to a Pride March in New York City. This would have
been the mid-70s. There was no band, just a lot of noisy people marching
along. At the end came the 'Tambourine Band,' which was a very loud truck
filled with people banging on whatever they could get their hands on."
Feeling a strong need for more appropriate
musical accompaniment, Wolff wrote to John Simms. Simms had founded the
San Francisco Gay Freedom Band and Twirling Corps. The pair arranged to
meet in New York.
"One of the things John felt
badly about was that his band was not very woman-friendly. He recommended
that I co-found the band with a woman, and he just happened to have one
in mind," Wolff laughed. "He'd previously played with Nancy
Corporan, she plays the French horn. That very next day, we all sat down
for a couple of hours, and when we were done, Nancy was the music director,
and I was the band manager."
It was late 1979 when the fledgling
band began rehearsals. "We'd meet in the basement of this lesbian
club on Bleeker Street. There were 13 or 14 of us to begin with, but the
band quickly grew."
"It was a very political thing
to start the band," explained long-time member Eric Rouda. "We
created a musical backdrop to the protest rallies. It sort of lent credence
to the whole thing - we weren't just a rabble chanting and screaming.
There was a band behind us."
"We performed in front of the
Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookstore," Wolff said. "Of course we passed
the hat, and that allowed us to buy music." That first winter saw
the band playing Christmas carols on the streets of New York. "You'd
see 1, 2, maybe 3 Salvation Army musicians here and there, but we had
a full band. We played in the Village, we played the Upper West Side."
Not all the music was festive. "There
was a horrible gay bashing incident on Christopher Street," Rouda
recalls. "We gathered and formed a funeral procession, marching down
the street. We played the Battle Hymn of the Republic. It brought an air
of respectability and solemnity to what could have been a very ugly protest."
The band enjoyed a place of prominence leading NY City's Gay Pride parade
for "many, many years," Rouda continued, "Until 9/11. Now
the Police Band leads our parade - as they do for many, many events throughout
New York."
"We weren't very good musicians
back then," Rouda said. "But we rehearsed every week. Some better
musicians have joined the band. The quality now is awesome, especially
when you consider that we're a predominantly amateur band"
Wolff had left the band shortly after
founding it, the time commitment at odds with a busy career and parenting
his son. "It was because of the band that I came out to my son, who
was eight at the time. We were spending time in the park, and my involvement
with the band led to that disclosure."
Family is a recurring theme when speaking
to band members. "The band provided me with a family," writes
long-time member Joe Avena. Babcock agrees. "I made up some lists
after going through old documents, papers salvaged from attics, garages,
ex-lovers' apartments. There's at least 800 people we know the names of
who have participated with the band over the years - dozens more who helped
that we never wrote down."
The ties among band participants are
strong. "Many of us have become each other's chosen family. Many
of my closest friends are people that I have known in the band for well
over 18 years," writes Eric Rouda. Even though only three members
of the original cadre remain - Rouda, Bob Imlaw, and Marsha Steltlaw -
it's not uncommon to hear of band friendships going back 5, 10, 15, even
20 years. These relationships have endured despite the ravages time and
disease have taken upon the group. "We've lost members to AIDS, to
breast cancer. We lost a trumpeter to Pan-Am 103."
"The band has had a tremendous
effect on a number of people," Wolff said, "not only the people
who listen, but the people who are in it." He paused for a moment,
reflecting how things have changed in the 25 years the Big Apple Corps
have been playing. "Young people need to look at what's missing in
their communities and work on filling that gap."
Bob and Nancy will be honored guests
at the Big Apple Corp's Silver Jubilee 25th anniversary event on May 1.
"I'm looking forward to it," Wolff said. The band will be in
our own back yard for the 2005 Pride March in Burlington, Vermont. "No,
I won't be playing," Wolff laughed. A bout with lung cancer left
Wolff with diminished lung capacity, "especially that 15 percent
I need for proper phrasing on the saxophone. I play the mandolin now."
Cynthia Potts lives with her family and an ever-growing collection
of animals in Plattsburgh, NY. She welcomes reader comments and can be
reached at ctpotts@juno.com