When Frank Tracz first heard it, he said he was shocked. In his 14 years as band director at K-State, he had never heard such a thing.

At a home game during the 2006 football season, one of Tracz's drum majors asked him if he realized fans were using the "F-word" when the band played the popular "Rock and Roll Part 2," more commonly referred to as the "Hey" song. Because Tracz pays so much attention to the game, he said he hadn't, but he offered one response - disgust.

"You want the emotion at the games, no question," Tracz said. "But I don't think we should dip to the lows with the language and the attitudes we have."

Because of that, Tracz said he stopped having the band play the song, much to the dismay of many fans in attendance. However, just because that particular song isn't played does not mean the word can't be used.

"People tell us we can't play the 'Hey' song, but now I'm hearing it in other cheers," Tracz said. "What are we going to do? It's going to come to the point where they're doing it in the fight song, as well. I'm not suggesting that, but what do we do?"

Since he abolished the song, he attempted to reintegrate it, most recently during a basketball game. The result was not what he had hoped, he said.

After the crowd yelled the "F-word," Tracz said he looked at the crowd and threw up his hands in disappointment.

The use of the word, Tracz said, is just part of the negative cheering becoming more prevalent at K-State in recent years. That is something he would like to help change.

How much of an effect can one band director have on the behavior of an entire student body? It might be more than most think, especially when considering the story of another band director - a man in Georgia who, more than 30 years ago, took a stand for something in which he believed, no matter how much trouble it caused.

uuuu

In the South, traditions can die hard.

When Craig Parker, a music professor at K-State, was a trumpet player in the University of Georgia marching band during the 1970s, he experienced this firsthand. As a five-year member of the Redcoat Marching Band, Parker witnessed the slow death of one of the most popular songs in American history, "Dixie."

He said his band director, Roger Dancz, was an unsung hero of the civil rights era for refusing to play the song.

High praise for a man who made his living directing music rather than making famous speeches, like some civil rights leaders.

"Here's a guy who basically put his career and his reputation on the line," Parker said. "He took lots of flak from lots of people, but he stuck to his guns and made the University of Georgia a better place and a more accepting place for people of all races."

To understand how a band director had such an effect on an entire university, one must take a look at the long history of the song.

uuuu

Written in 1859 by Daniel Emmett, "Dixie," with its catchy tune, became a popular song in the North and South during the beginning of the Civil War. Troops from both armies marched to war to the tune. The song rose in popularity during a time when one race would write song lyrics making fun of another, and because it mocked the way black people spoke, "Dixie" soon became a fixture in the Confederate states.

By the time the civil rights movement was heating up in the '60s and racial tension was at its peak, "Dixie" evolved into a symbol for keeping racial oppression the way it was. In fact, Parker said, groups like the Ku Klux Klan even used the song as a rallying cry.

So it came as no surprise that there was added controversy when Southeastern Conference schools played "Dixie" throughout football games.

When there was a first down, the band would play. Score a touchdown, strike up the music.

"This song took on even more enhanced meanings," Parker said. "To those who wanted to keep segregation alive, 'Dixie' became a way of symbolizing that they wanted the ways of the past to remain."

Given that the student body of every SEC school was composed mostly of white students at the time, there wasn't much of a problem. However, by the early '70s, when more black students were integrated into traditionally white schools, "Dixie" started to incite violence among the fans.

Seeing as most of the lyrics were offensive to a large percentage of the people in attendance, Dancz made a bold decision in 1974. "Dixie" would not be played at any more Bulldog sporting events.

The backlash was swift.

For two or three years, Dancz had to be escorted by state troopers from the band room to the field. Reporters called for his firing in editorials. He received all kinds of threats. One reactionary newspaper at the time hired airplanes to fly over football games with banners that read, "Fire Dancz. Play Dixie."

"He went through lots of turmoil just because of his fairness and his sense of right and wrong," Parker said.

Even supporters of Dancz's decision, including Parker, were subjected to late-night phone calls and threats.

Eventually, however, the hostility subsided. The threats went away. And by the late 1970s, most of the other SEC schools had cast "Dixie" aside. In fact, after a few years, Dancz brought soul singer James Brown, one of the greatest figures in the history of black musicians, to perform with the band at halftime.

After some initial stubbornness, minds finally were changed.

Dancz, the same man who thrust himself in the middle of a giant controversy, kept his job until he retired in 1991. He died in 1998, and was regarded as one of the most important figures at the University of Georgia.

uuuu

Taking into account all of the racial implications in the 1970s, Tracz is not about to compare his situation to the struggles Dancz endured. But he faces a similar dilemma, albeit on a much smaller scale.

He could please the minority simply by playing the song, with crowd members adding the F-word, or he could stick with what he believes is right.

"It's just like anything else," he said. "The silent majority are overrun by the vocal minority in our world. It could be turned around if everybody would just stand up and boo or say the right words or something.

"I was a college student. I did all that stuff, but I knew when to do it and when not to do it."

So the questions remain. Will the "Hey" song ever be played again? Will the negativity subside?

It sometimes is hard for one man to make a difference. After all, traditions, no matter how long they have been around, tend to die hard. But Tracz said he is doing his best to try to have an effect.

"It's just concerning to me, because there's a chance that it could get worse," Tracz said, "There's a chance we won't be able to play some of the other things we want to play. It just takes more people to jump on the bandwagon and say, 'That's enough of this. Stop it.'"