Zack Smith was two years into his jazz degree at North Texas State when the trumpet professor cornered him. You know, Zack, he intoned, You’re not very good. Have you considered switching your major to something like, oh, I don’t know... waste management? Crushed, Zack finished his degree in quiet anonymity, hoping that one day a group would come along that could understand and appreciate his love of game shows and T.V. theme songs. Now firmly entrenched as cornetist and accordionist for the DPT, Zack still earns less than most garbage men. Contact Zack

Andy Kochenour, tubist extraordinaire, studied at Indiana University of PA. Not content to be just another tuba jock, he jumped when the opportunity arose for him to serve his country in the military. Carrying his horn in one hand and Old Glory in the other, Andy battled dread communism throughout Europe, making the world a safer place for democracy and Sousa marches. With the fall of the Berlin Wall came the inevitable yearning for a greater challenge, so he traded in his fatigues and heeded the call of the DPT. Operating once again in the free world, Andy has a new challenge before him: giving new meaning to the phrase heavy metal.


Guitarist Chuck Underwood grew up in the DC area and built quite a musical reputation until he was captured and put into servitude by a hostile bar mitzvah band.  Fifteen years later he was rescued in a joint mission by the USMC and the DPT’s GPE program (Guitar Player Extraction).  Under cover of darkness and disco balls, Chuck was extracted in the middle of a hora set, replaced by a large cheese sculpture, and taken to the DPT training center where he was put through rigorous zydeco training.  Freed of the tyranny of “Motown” and “disco” medleys, Chuck is now using his immense talent to help show other guitar players the path to freedom.

Drummer and resident film critic for the DPT, Byron McWilliams was always be counted on for his keen insight into matters both curious and irrelevant. A native of Annapolis, Maryland, Byron impressed his high school professors with his grasp of the theory of relativity (that is, the relative merits of playing R & B versus those of attending class). While his academic appearances were few, Byron made the most of his time spent outside the classroom, taking in important lessons by the likes of Pacino, Deniro, and Nicholson, shedding on his drums, and digging elaborate tunnels throughout the countryside. Unable to find a job as a film critic or a ditch digger, Byron realized that playing drums with the DPT was his true career path-- at least until Roger Ebert retires.