Death finally shows seriousness of hazing problem in marching bands

Every now and then, as a journalist, you want to think that you haven't just done a good "story," but maybe you've actually brought attention to something that
Death finally shows seriousness of hazing problem in marching bands
Death finally shows seriousness of hazing problem in marching bands /

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Every now and then, as a journalist, you want to think that you haven't just done a good "story," but maybe you've actually brought attention to something that can actually do good.

I dared to feel that a year ago when I reported a piece for the HBO show, Real Sports With Bryant Gumbel about violent hazing in the marching bands at Historically Black Colleges and Universities. At first, as the producer Josh Fine, outlined the horrors of what was passed off as merely typical old college hazing, I doubted him. I couldn't believe that the premeditated violence that Josh described could possibly be that brutal, that widespread and that enabled by the institutions.

But then, as I interviewed band members at HBCU schools, my disbelief grew into shock as I learned about behavior that was, effectively, institutional torture. New band members -- called "crabs" --had to face choreographed assaults, with two-by-fours, belts, baseball bats, beer bottles ... suffering literally hundreds of blows from their older compatriots. For example, an Alabama A&M flute player vividly told me about how she'd been attacked, time and time again, by the older flutists. That's right. Even flute players. Even women. Women battering each other.

The victims also admitted, grievously, that they succumbed to a horrible psychological turnabout, because as painfully injured as they'd been when they were beaten, they themselves willingly became the twisted assailants the next year. "[It got] your blood boiling for the next person, like a vampire lookin' for blood," one French horn player told me.

As the brutality continued, validated as a way of building band camaraderie, the excuses continued as well. HBCU bands are the headliners when they play at football games -- literally more popular than the football teams that they play for at halftime. The band director at Florida A&M, Julian White, responded to my report by saying that I was just a prejudiced outsider who, quote, "made it seem like Black schools are the only places where it's happening ... That's just not the case."

I'm sorry, but that is precisely the case. It is the culture.

The common defense is that everybody does it, that hazing is endemic to all big-time college bands, as it is to fraternities. But that is facile; one size doesn't fit all. In fact, so extreme has been the band torture at HBCU schools that some victims have had to be hospitalized. After one crab at Southern University almost died when his kidneys stopped functioning, his assailants were criminally prosecuted, because, an assistant DA told me: "To continue that cycle ... somebody was gonna die."

Still, when my piece aired, there were no apologies, and worse: no change in the way things had always been. The bands must play on. Then, last month, a member of Julian White's Florida A&M band died of beatings at the hands of his comrades, in the line of tradition.

Julian White has been fired at Florida A&M, but perhaps now they won't just call this sort of thing hazing anymore anywhere.


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Frank Deford
FRANK DEFORD

Frank Deford is among the most versatile of American writers. His work has appeared in virtually every medium, including print, where he has written eloquently for Sports Illustrated since 1962. Deford is currently the magazine's Senior Contributing Writer and contributes a weekly column to SI.com. Deford can be heard as a commentator each week on Morning Edition. On television he is a regular correspondent on the HBO show Real Sports With Bryant Gumbel. He is the author of 15 books, and his latest,The Enitled, a novel about celebrity, sex and baseball, was published in 2007 to exceptional reviews. He and Red Smith are the only writers with multiple features in The Best American Sports Writing of the Century. Editor David Halberstam selected Deford's 1981 Sports Illustrated profile on Bobby Knight (The Rabbit Hunter) and his 1985 SI profile of boxer Billy Conn (The Boxer and the Blonde) for that prestigious anthology. For Deford the comparison is meaningful. "Red Smith was the finest columnist, and I mean not just sports columnist," Deford told Powell's Books in 2007. "I've always said that Red is like Vermeer, with those tiny, priceless pieces. Five hundred words, perfectly chosen, crafted. Best literary columnist, in any newspaper, that I've ever seen." Deford was elected to the National Association of Sportscasters and Sportswriters Hall of Fame. Six times at Sports Illustrated Deford was voted by his peers as U.S. Sportswriter of The Year. The American Journalism Review has likewise cited him as the nation's finest sportswriter, and twice he was voted Magazine Writer of The Year by the Washington Journalism Review. Deford has also been presented with the National Magazine Award for profiles; a Christopher Award; and journalism honor awards from the University of Missouri and Northeastern University; and he has received many honorary degrees. The Sporting News has described Deford as "the most influential sports voice among members of the print media," and the magazine GQ has called him, simply, "The world's greatest sportswriter." In broadcast, Deford has won a Cable Ace award, an Emmy and a George Foster Peabody Award for his television work. In 2005 ESPN presented a television biography of Deford's life and work, You Write Better Than You Play. Deford has spoken at well over a hundred colleges, as well as at forums, conventions and on cruise ships around the world. He served as the editor-in-chief of The National Sports Daily in its brief but celebrated existence. Deford also wrote Sports Illustrated's first Point After column, in 1986. Two of Deford's books, the novel, Everybody's All-American, and Alex: The Life Of A Child, his memoir about his daughter who died of cystic fibrosis, have been made into movies. Two of his original screenplays have also been filmed. For 16 years Deford served as national chairman of the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation, and he remains chairman emeritus. He resides in Westport, CT, with his wife, Carol. They have two grown children – a son, Christian, and a daughter, Scarlet. A native of Baltimore, Deford is a graduate of Princeton University, where he has taught American Studies.