Editor’s note: This article is the first of two that explore the consequences and reasons behind a critical lack of space at Cal Poly that impacts certain majors more than others. Read the second story here.
When the time arrived to pick a college, Christian Cueto had three main criteria: A good engineering program, a good surrounding area and the ability to keep playing music. Cal Poly checked his boxes and the band especially was “a huge reason why I came here.”
He knew music isn’t what Cal Poly is known for, so he didn’t expect to be practicing in state-of-the-art facilities or to have the school’s undivided attention.
But he didn’t expect the music department and its ensembles to face such a severe lack of space. The few places they sometimes did have access to would leave him in fear of losing his hearing due to loud instruments being so close to his head.
“We’re all so tightly packed. For instance, right behind my ears, like, a trumpet player is right here,” Cueto said about rehearsing in the band room for the symphony orchestra. “But then if I wear earplugs for the quieter parts, it’s harder for me to play in tune and it’s harder to hear the other players next to me.”
Lack of rehearsal space for the Mustang Band
Cueto is one of over 200 members of Cal Poly’s marching band, the Mustang Band. He has played the marching baritone for the band since his freshman year and has been one of the baritone section leaders for the past four years.
He has also been a member of the symphony orchestra and wind ensemble, and the brass ensemble for just one quarter during his freshman year. He’s now in his fifth year and a graduate student in aerospace engineering through the blended program, with a music minor.
Cueto has noticed that the building isn’t just short on classroom space, but also lacks study spaces. He said there are “maybe 20 seats,” and that one of the few areas with seating “looks like a waiting area for a dentist’s office.”
On campus, music has been around since Cal Poly was founded in 1901. The music department itself wasn’t founded until 1936, and the Bachelor of Arts in music wasn’t established until 55 years later in 1991, according to Cal Poly’s website.
Since before music was even offered as a major, it’s been open to participation from students of other majors, Department Chair Alicia M. Doyle said. In fact, 80% of students of most ensembles aren’t music majors, according to the music department’s website.
But while this is “beautiful and exciting,” she said, it complicates the already evident lack of space, and they will fear they will no longer be able to serve students outside of the music major.
“I do believe it’s within our campus’s capability to accommodate students who are interested in music making,” Doyle said. “I think it’s possible.”
But for the Mustang Band in particular, space isn’t just limited — it’s almost entirely unavailable.
They are able to practice on the Doerr Family Field during fall quarter from 3:10-5:30 p.m. two days a week. However, a sound policy prevents the band from using amplified sound, meaning Associate Director of Bands Nicholas Waldron is not able to effectively communicate with or instruct his band.
“There is no other academic teacher that spends all year looking for a classroom,” he said. “I’ve done it every quarter.”
Regarding the other two fields, one no longer has football field lines and one is almost always unavailable to be scheduled by the band, Waldron said.
“If we need to do anything outside of rehearsal, I need to check with athletics, my department, the theatre department, and ASI,” he said, clarifying that he checks periodically rather than daily. “Before I can use any other space and that’s a lot of people I need to all confirm something with so by the time it happens, we’re out of luck.”
Other spaces that are large enough such as the Multi-Activity Center (MAC) or the Performing Arts Center (PAC) — which is not owned directly by Cal Poly — costs extra money. However, Waldron said this is neither accommodated in the department’s budget nor justifiable.
“Students pay a lot to attend here for an academic class, to take my budget to benefit the student to use a building that the students are already paying for. I have an issue with that,” he said. “So I refuse to pay to use a building inside, which meant we got pushed outside.”
In the past, the band was considered an Instructionally Related Activity (IRA), which is an “out-of-class experience that provides enrichment to students and enhances their learning at Cal Poly” and is funded through student fees, according to Cal Poly Academic Programs and Planning.
A couple of music ensembles, including the University Jazz Bands and Arab Music Ensemble, are IRA approved, but the Mustang Band is not currently one of them. Instead, their funding comes from the state, Waldron said. They are also a Recognized Student Organization (RSO).
According to Cal Poly’s OpenBook, the Mustang Band spent about $382,500 during the 2022-23 school year. But with the group’s growth and with inflation, Doyle said “it’s increasingly not enough money to do things that they want to do.” She also said the Mustang Band’s budget has remained static for many years.
Additionally, she said they often have to dip into the department’s budget in order to accommodate the cost to use a space so the band can practice altogether even just several times. This allowed the Mustang Band to use the PAC three times in the winter quarter, Waldron said in an email.
Limited room for the theatre and dance department
The Davidson Music Center is already bursting at its seams trying to accommodate Waldron and the rest of the music department. Yet it also has to accommodate the theatre and dance department.
The costume shop is housed in the trailer behind the building — it also operates as a storage room, office and fitting room. Up to two faculty members and eight students can fit at one time, but only at the expense of being extremely cramped, associate professor of stage design and technical production and department chair Brian Healy said.
They have also lost access to the women’s dressing room, Healy said. The visiting football team had needed a place to change and used this space, but without prior warning to the theatre and dance department. The closest place they could go instead was in a different building that wasn’t even well-lit and it had been nighttime, he said.
For 150 students, the department only controls two spaces of their own to serve both dance and theater classes and rehearsals: their black box theater and the Crandall dance studio.
“I have a colleague who says we punch above our weight and I believe that that is the case,” Healy said. “But constantly having to readjust enrollment caps, move classes around, settle for inadequate spaces, can become very frustrating for faculty [and] students, right, and I think you’ll feel it.”
Like the marching band, the PAC is also an option for his department. Healy said he loves working with them, but that the department also struggles to afford the spaces there on a frequent basis. He also said the common yet misconstrued belief about the PAC’s ownership can sometimes muddy perception about his department’s own identity.
“I think there are many generous people and patrons, strong patrons, and people that love the arts and I don’t know that they’re aware that we live in the shadow of the PAC,” Healy said. “Because we aren’t the PAC.”
Healy said he does feel heard and that “within reason [the school] often attempt[s] to accommodate,” but that there’s still a visible difference in how entities on campus like the theatre and dance department face this lack of space more than others. He said they’re simply just getting “bandaids.”
“I don’t necessarily see it elsewhere because I don’t spend as much time out there, but I know I see cranes and buildings and construction everywhere except here,” he said.
Healy also acknowledged the multidimensionality of the problem, admitting that they partially have a responsibility of their own to build a reputation and use it to advocate for change.
But without structural support and branding, he said this is a difficult task.
“How do you brand yourself and let everyone know who you are when you can’t even have your name on the building?” Healy said.
At the CSU level
The solution? A new building. The problem? Money.
“So ideally, there would be a room for us to use to schedule with others,” Waldron said. “It doesn’t have to be only ours, but a room that I would be able to schedule without having to clear it through for other offices on campus.”
According to the CSU’s 2024-25 Operating Budget Plan, they propose putting $25 million towards necessary projects. However, the plan said “many of these projects would support students seeking careers in engineering, health care and the sciences.”
The chance of the money going to the band and theatre programs? Slim.
One CSU study looked at classroom and lab utilization capacity on each of the CSU campuses. Most were below 100% capacity — Cal Poly was over, at 107.3%.
Healy said he also sees a lack of priority not at the Cal Poly level, but at the higher level. However, he also said he’s eager to do what’s within his capability when raising awareness.
“Whatever it is we can do or need to do to help the CSUs see that Cal Poly has arts programs, performing arts programs especially, that currently thrive but could be exceptional with just that much more support,” he said.
Doyle agrees that a new building would be the best solution. In order to get one that accommodates everyone, including Waldron and Healy, or even just to renovate the existing building, she said it’s either up to funding from the state or from donors.
Only with this money can they move up to what she called the “Chancellor’s List.”
According to page 128 of the CSU Five-Year Plan, the Davidson Music Center is listed as one of the projects to be funded, and will entail renovating and expanding the current building. It will also include “upgrades to practice rooms, offices, and additional storage space for musical instruments,” according to the plan.
At the Cal Poly level, Doyle said the Davidson Music Center is now at the top. But since money is needed to reach the list at the CSU level, she’s not sure when she’ll actually see a change; coming by a donor hasn’t been doable so far.
“I believe our Dean and I believe the President are fully aware that this building is inadequate, like grossly inadequate,” Healy said. “The problem is jumping from that to the CSU level system wide level to prioritize it.”