Murder on Morningside Heights

Premeditated murder.  Contemplated, planned, and executed in a cold, calculated thrust of a knife into the heart of the victim.  Three years ago, President Lee Bollinger and Dean James Valentini decided that the Columbia University Marching Band was an annoyance that needed to be snuffed out.  They were disrespectful toward the university administration.  They were insubordinate, they refused to let Bollinger pre-approve the content of their routines, and their humor was sometimes vulgar.  Worst of all was their semi-annual "Orgo Night" program, which embodied all these characteristics, and which often produced complaints from students who were offended by some of the jokes.  The band was not disciplined, did not comport themselves with the appropriate honor and dignity, and was not something that Bollinger and Valentini could brag about to their Ivy League colleagues.  The CUMB was a tradition loved and laughed at by generations of Columbians, but it was not one that the administrators wanted perpetuated.

Step one was to kill Orgo Night, which Bollinger and Valentini did in the winter of 2016, as chronicled in the virtual pages of this blog. Ban the band from their signature performance, and deprive the students of the bonding experience of Orgo Night, and slowly start to drain the life blood from the victim.

Step two was to come down hard on the Band's leaders when the group predictably ignored the order that they were banned from the library, threatening them with disciplinary action and sending the clear message to underclassmen in the Band that there would be long-term negative consequences to continued failure to fall into line.

Step three was to take away funding from the Band, cutting it off from the resources it needed to survive.  Bollinger found an administrative loophole -- that the Band was not formally registered as a student organization within the normal budget and administrative oversight system.  The Band existed as an exception to the normal process, partially funded by an annual allotment of $10,000 from the Athletic department (mainly to offset the costs of travel to football games and basketball games), and partially by a special allocation of $15,000 from the university.  Bollinger, in retaliation for the Band's continued efforts to keep Orgo Night alive, withdrew the $15,000 of university funding from the Band.  His plan was to announce the de-funding at a time calculated to make it impossible for the Band's leadership to apply for recognition (and funding) from the usual student organization process.  That would leave the Band with less than half its normal financial resources, and at the mercy of the Athletic Department.

Step four was executed this week, when the Athletic Department withdrew its funding from the Band -- based on the pretext that the group was not an officially recognized student activity group.  Of course, the Band was never an officially recognized student activity group, which never caused the Athletic Department from providing funding and support in the past.  But now, as part of Bollinger's evil plan, the Athletic Department cut the cord, and banned the CUMB from performing at football games or any other athletic event.  The Band's halftime shows during football games often tested the boundaries of tasteful humor, and its chants from the stands sometimes offended older alumni.  The pep and spirit provided by the choruses of "Roar, Lion, Roar!" and other music during games was something that Bollinger could do without if it meant finally ridding him of the annoyance that the Band represented.

And so the Band is dead.  Murdered by Bollinger and Valentini.  Cut down and drained of funding, deprived of permission to perform, and threatened with sanctions if they formed an unapproved, unofficial pep group and tried to play music at future sports events.  They anticipated that the Band's inherent enthusiasm and school spirit would prompt them to work around the restrictions, and tried to cut them off in advance.

Generations of Columbians have memories of their college years filled with images and sounds of the Band playing in the gym, at Baker Field, and in the college reading room during Orgo Night.  Hundreds of loyal, money-donating members of the band alumni association will now shun homecoming and never donate a penny again to the school.  Columbia will be the only Ivy school without a marching band.

Bollinger thinks that he has accomplished a goal.  He will no longer be embarrassed by the the antics of "that zoo fraternity" that was the CUMB.  He is probably correct that the Band's current students will not build a float on the body of an old car and drive the "Deathmobile" onto the football field in order to disrupt the homecoming game and embarrass Bollinger.  They are not deadbeats who don't care about whether they get expelled.  They are high-achievers who would not jeopardize their futures in order to give a metaphoric middle finger to President Bollinger.

Perhaps members of the band alumni association will find an appropriate way to protest.  Perhaps even more alumni will withhold donations and let Bollinger know that his vicious murder of the CUMB has left a permanent scar on his legacy and on Columbia.  Many are now in mourning.  The next step will be to seek justice, and retribution on the murderer.  There is no justification.  There is no bigger picture.  There is only loss, and sadness, and anger.

Get angry.  Let President Bollinger know how angry you are. [President Lee Bollinger (212-854-9970, bollinger@columbia.edu)]  Then, we'll need to figure out how to rebuild -- how to resuscitate the CUMB.  Like the monster in a horror film, the Band will not stay dead.  Its bullet-riddled hulk will rise from the grave and haunt Bollinger for the rest of his days as President, which are now likely numbered.  He will eventually rue the day that he decided that killing the Band should be his legacy as President.  The Band will not die quietly, and alumni who love and appreciate the Band will not allow Bollinger's murder to be the Band's last chorus.