My trombone got me in to University

University was not the plan. When I arrived at uni, I was a 22-year-old Oakland person with like a 2.2-grade point average from the junior college I had been going to part-time since high school.

If you don't know that City College life, just know that it has the potential to last three times as long as black college life. Anyway, I was not prepared for University. Especially financially. I was not ready for the high price of a higher education.

After convincing my grandmother to claim me on her taxes and receiving a grant or two - after taking all the loans - I was still short like twelve hundred dollars on the year. I found that out in a letter I received from the university's financial aid office. They told me that I was still on the hook for six hundred dollars for each semester and that if I did not pay the said six hundred dollars a semester, I would not be able to attend The University.

I was in a panic. I didn’t have twelve hundred dollars nor did I have a source for such money. The family was good for a couple dollars here and there but this kind of money wasn’t happening. I was starting to think that uni wasn’t happening for me. Fortunately for me, there was another communication from the university in the mail that day. It was a letter from the university’s band. In the letter, the band director inquired about my ability to play an instrument, invited me to call and schedule an audition if the answer was yes to being able to play an instrument and there was mention of scholarships available. Also included in the letter were the dates for auditions and the date of the first day of band camp. I assume that information was provided so that one interested in being in the band would know that their year would start early. For me, this little piece of information was my opportunity to pay for uni.

I played trombone.

The keyed word being played. At the time, I hadn’t played the trombone in years. At least six or seven years to be not really exact. I stopped playing trombone when I stopped being active in Mother’s Buddhist organization.

The Buddhist organization had activities for the members and one of the primary activities for the young men was the marching band. It was a heel-toe matching style band that specialized in traditional band numbers. Lots of John Philip Sousa. The Men’s Division Marching Band (MDMB) marched in like all the parades in the Bay Area and performed with other MDMBs from other regions at the conventions. And there was always a convention. The MDMB got busy.

The other activity was Men’s Division Gymnastics where they made human pyramids on roller skates. I was too small for that group. So I was in the band and I didn’t march.

I was a drummer and the band had a whole bunch of drummers. And this wasn’t high school where like spots open up because people have graduated. This was a religion. Those drummers had a spot as long as they were active believers and could drum. I was also a ten-year-old drummer without a drum nor the drum skills to actually deserve a spot. I never got to march

One day after like two years of carrying shit as a member of the band, I asked the band director if I could march. And he was like, “I would really love to get you out there but I have enough drummers.” And then he said the words that would later give me the confidence to skip auditions and Bogart my way into the university’s band. He said, “It’s too bad you don’t play the trombone. You can never have enough trombones.”

Second semester. Seventh grade. The band teacher announces that he is starting a low brass class and invites us all who play drums and trumpets to explore low brass instruments like trombone, baritone, or tuba. I sign up and learned how to play trombone and by the summer, I was marching with the MDMB. I was doing parades and conventions. I went to Seattle and New York and Hawaii. It was fantastic. I marched with the MDMB for most of my young years.

In high school, I attempted to rekindle my love for the drums. Being short and young, I was relegated to cymbals and that was where I stayed. I eventually played trombone and then left band all together for African-Haitian dance and orating. It was around this time, I had left Mother’s home and the organization thus leaving the MDMB as well. By junior year of high school, the trombone and I were no longer a thing.

Back to the band letter.

I played trombone. I was not going to pass an audition. That was for sure. So with faith in the MDMB band director’s words of wisdom, I took a hundred dollars from my rent money and went to a pawn shop and got me a beat-up ass trombone. I bought myself a trombone basics book and The Lion King songbook for trombone. For the next two months, it was chromatics scales and I Just Can’t Wait To Be King.

On the first day of band camp, I reported to camp. There was a trailer that housed the band director and the assistant band director and the rest of the staff and it was there that band members were to check-in. When I approached the trailer there was a sentry at the door with a name list.

“Name?” she asked quite politely.

“Yusef Abdul-Alim,” I responded. (I had a way of life name back then. That’s another story.)

She scanned the list twice looking for my name and on the start of the third scan I informed her that I was not on the list.

“I didn’t audition,” I said. “I’m kind of like a walk on. I am here to attempt to walk on to the band. May I see the band director?”

The Sentry giggled. Maybe because she had never heard of a walk-on in the band before? Or maybe because she knew that the band director was a no-nonsense play no games fiery-tempered hothead with a stutter. She was probably giggling in anticipation of the outburst I had coming.

The Sentry disappeared into the trailer returned shortly with a “the band director will see you now.” She walked me to his office and showed me in and then posted herself outside of the room to watch the show. The Band Director did not disappoint.

“So, you here to join the band?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you didn’t audition for the band?”

“No, sir.”

“And now,” (mind you this is all happening in stutters) “you are here looking to join my band?”

“Yes, sir.”

At this point, the Band Director who was seated, stood up.

“Boy, I am running a university band program here. If you wanted to be in the band you should have auditioned for the band. You can’t just walk up into my band. You can’t just walk up into any band. What in the heck make you think you can just walk up in here and join my band?”

“I play trombone, sir.”

The Band Director’s face changed into one that confirmed that my MDMB band director’s words were true. Unbeknownst to me, the trombone struggle was real at the university.

What I didn’t know – which I would later find out – was that at that time black college bands were all about numbers and size. Yes, there was an expectation of good sound but the primary thing that like alumni, faculty, staff, and students looked at was the size. How many pieces in the band? For that reason, many college and university bands would march high school students, members of other school bands, and even people not enrolled in school at all. Just like regular adults with jobs and shit marching in the band.

This was the Band Director’s second year at the uni and he was making waves because he only marched people actually enrolled at the university and so the band was small. Like real small. Like at the time when I rolled up into the trailer talking about “I play trombone sir” the band had two trombone players. I would end up being the third. (We later converted our two baritone players to trombone so we marched with five that year. The Boneyard. But that’s another story)

The Band Director’s face changed into one that confirmed that my MDMB band director’s words were true. He sat back down and asked how much money I needed.

“Six hundred dollars a semester.”

He nodded and called The Sentry. He instructed her to get all my information and to get me a uniform and an instrument. Then he looked at me and told me to report to Richard.

I marched in the university band for two years. Without the partial scholarships I received that first couple of years there would have never been any uni for me.

And it was all made possible by the universal band truth: You can never have enough trombones.