Reinventing the Yale Jamboree (Tim O'Brien '81)

Coming back to campus in September 1980, the Nassoons faced a huge recruiting challenge. We had lost five terrific singers to graduation the previous spring, and we were particularly short on tenors—we had just a pair each of T1’s and T2’s.

Not only did we need more singers, but we needed them fast. We had invited the Whiffenpoofs to sing with us in Richardson Hall (then Alexander Hall) on October 10, along with the Tigerlilies and the Vassar Night Owls. The Nassoons had not shared a stage with the Whiffs since the spring of 1978 at Smith College, and we were keen to renew the rivalry. The date was early in the school year, and there was that little problem of needing tenors. But we figured the Whiffs would be easiest to beat (not that it was a competition, of course) if they were still getting their legs under them and we had the home field advantage.

So we came back to campus that fall staring down the barrel of a gun. We made a huge effort to find and recruit singers during Freshman week, and luck was with us. We bid seven exceptional singers in the Class of 1984. I cannot forget how exciting it was to see them, one by one, come down to the Nassoon room for their first rehearsal the day after we bid them. It was a clean sweep of the seven best singers in their class, including four superb tenors—terrific guys, to boot.

(L-R) Tom Allen ’82 (Bass), Accra Sheep ’84 (Bass), David Fisher ’83 (T1), Stewart Harris ’83 (TB), Taylor Bodman ’83 (Bari), Bill Hunter ’82 (T2), Rob Mitchell ’83 (Bari), Rick Spina ’83, and Steve Ban ’84 (T1)

Until that fall, new members of the group were expected to learn several arrangements every week so that they would know the full repertoire in short order. Further, new members would stand behind the rest of the group during shows for at least a semester while they learned the arrangements and became accustomed to performing. We scrapped both of those practices. Instead, as soon as auditions were over we picked the set that we would sing at the Jamboree, and we spent the next month drilling those songs—and only those songs—into the freshmen, and polishing them with the rest of the group.

In a stroke of good fortune, the great Fred Fox ’39 agreed to be the master of ceremonies, and he delivered in his typical spectacular fashion. Fred had prepared remarks, he had gag gifts, and he had the audience eating out of his hand before we sang a single note. At the end of the night, Fred stepped back to the mic and said words to the effect of, “I want all of you to stand now, and join in singing Auld Lang Syne. As you may know, the words to Old Nassau were originally sung to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. What’s more, as the years go by, you can brag to your grandchildren that you once sang with the Princeton Nassoons.”

The rest is history. The Whiffs were good. The Nassoons were better. We whipped them in touch football the next morning, as well. The rivalry was back on.

There is, alas, a sad postscript to the story. Fred Fox died unexpectedly a few months later. Fred touched the life of everyone he met, however brief the association. Those of you who knew him understand what I mean; those of you who came to Princeton after Fred left us can never know what you missed. Without fail, whenever I am back on campus I stop by the stone in the Chapel that bears his name, and remember Fred and his glorious collaboration with the Nassoons that long-ago October evening. Fred was only 63 when he died. It’s shocking to contemplate that I am almost that age myself now. When it’s my turn to go, boys, do me one last favor; sing Auld Lang Syne at my funeral.