How the ‘world’s largest marching band’ once charmed Minnesota

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World’s tallest family. Largest mouth gape. Biggest Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles gathering. These records and hundreds more set by Minnesotans still stand in the Guinness World Records’ official list.

Reader Rod Cameron, however, has been thinking about a record that was surpassed long ago. It still sticks out for him as a special Minnesota moment.

Cameron was watching the movie version of “The Music Man” recently when it jarred his memory about a record-breaking day back in 1981. Dozens of high school bands from across the state joined the University of Minnesota’s marching band in downtown Minneapolis to play the musical’s signature song, “Seventy-Six Trombones.” At the time, they set a new Guinness World Record for largest marching band.

Cameron wrote to Curious Minnesota, the Strib’s audience-powered reporting project, to find out more about the event’s history.

It turns out that the woman who planned for “that reeeaally big-band sound” (as the Minneapolis Tribune’s headline about the event called it) was also responsible for setting five more world records in just a few years.

For a time, dancer and event planner Beth Obermeyer was the Twin Cities’ go-to gal for getting on Guinness’ list and having a fabulous time doing so.

Her first record happened by accident in 1979, she said. She was already planning a giant tap dancing performance in the streets to celebrate the Hennepin Center for the Arts’ opening.

Then, by chance, she watched the Guinness TV show that was popular at the time and caught a segment about the “world’s largest tap dancing line.”

It only had 528 people. She was planning for 1,801.

After that success, Obermeyer planned a record-setting longest “bucket brigade” carrying water along Lake Street from the Mississippi River to Bde Maka Ska.

Then came the big band.

Obermeyer lined up the U’s band director, Frank Bencriscutto (known by all as “Dr. Ben”), to take the helm as the bands marched through downtown. But for the signature number, she wanted to bring in “The Music Man’s” author and composer himself, Meredith Willson.

Like Willson, Obermeyer grew up in Mason City, Iowa. They even worked with the same local piano accompanist, although years apart, she said. But getting him to come to Minneapolis proved trickier than she expected.

“I wrote him seven times,” she said. “I kept thinking, ‘This is perfect. This is ”The Music Man." This is the world’s largest marching band. We’re going to play “Seventy-six Trombones.” Why is he saying no?’”

The seventh time, she made sure to offer to provide airfare and a hotel. Then he said yes, she said. “When I met him at the airport, he kissed my hand,” Obermeyer said.

On the morning of Oct. 12, 1981, high school bands from across Minnesota all arrived in downtown Minneapolis. Even the tiny town of Cromwell, with a population of 181, sent 24 musicians, the Duluth News Tribune reported at the time. In the end, there were 2,512 musicians, 496 flag carriers and 76 drum majors (beating the past record for largest band, set at Richard Nixon’s inauguration).

“Oh, it was incredible to realize that every single band showed up,” Obermeyer said. “Band leaders are the ultimate organizers, and their students were in tow. That feeling that, as I checked them off one by one, that they all were there was just an amazing feeling.”

They lined up, band by band, near the Post Office and marched down Marquette Avenue. Start time was 6:15 p.m. From up in a cherry picker that lowered to clear skyways, Dr. Ben directed them all in renditions of “This Is My Country,” “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and more until they flooded into Peavey Plaza.

There, Willson led them in his famous song. It ended up being one of his final public appearances as a conductor before he died. He turned towards his wife before the song ended, Obermeyer said. Still, she remembers him repeating, “Whatta band.”

Video from the event can be found on Youtube, although there’s no sound. Willson is in lights up above the plaza as everyone files in. Participants’ excitement is clear as the camera pans the crowd. It’s also clear that capes and Q-tip-style hats were still very much band uniform staples.

Later that month, Dr. Ben (who died in 1997) wrote a letter to the Minneapolis Tribune about that night, calling it “a very special experience.”

“The occasion was a statement to the nation by Minneapolis business, saying boldly, ‘We believe in the arts as an indispensable part of life and recognize that the future of the arts depends on the communities of our nation providing necessary support.’”

Obermeyer went on to set three more records (for most hands shook by a political candidate in a single occasion, longest tap dance distance and longest dance line. She orchestrated that last one at the Metrodome during a Vikings halftime show).

It’s been a long time since the world’s largest marching band record was held in Minnesota — a performance this year by 12,269 in Osaka, Japan, is currently on top.

The pride remains though, for those who remember that night in 1981.

“I think Minnesotans like to be proud of themselves,” said Obermeyer.

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