For those who love and want more of The Music Man, this account of its development delivers -- with Willson's quirky voice telling a quite impressive story of years of work by Willson, his wife, and others who believed in this little show. 

The details of how some now-iconic numbers came to be are fascinating. It's hard to imagine now that the opening, for example, with a train stopping and starting up again, conveyed only by the words and movements of the actors, was not planned exactly so ... but it wasn't, and Willson demonstrates that process of how a number that doesn't work is altered, again and again, without being quite right, until some genius suggestion makes it burst to life. 

It takes patience and persistence and faith, and I find it inspiring to read about a group of humans being able to pull such a crazy project to its conclusion, basically out of love, rather than greed for profit. Although backers might think they have a sure thing, there's no such assurance up until opening night and beyond.

Willson encapsulates what fascinates me about such accounts of stage production when he describes how everyone pulled together when the star Robert Preston went down with strained vocal chords and his understudy, Larry Douglas, had to step in. This was at a time when the show was still being changed every day and it was hard enough for those actively practicing to keep track. 

"Well, Larry went on. That night we had the great privilege of seeing the heart of Show Business and the pulsebeat that makes it life and death to those smitten with it -- not the explanation as to why they go through what they go through to get to be part of it -- I don't know any explanation for that -- but the amazing raw revealment of what a real pro can do on a stage when he has to, and the strength that rises up in his fellow performers to carry him through. Every member of the company followed Larry's lines and lyrics along to himself in every scene, at the risk of going up, just to be ready to throw a word or cue. There were prompters in every portal -- not only the stage managers but the light men, the stagehands and carpenters. The children were there, too, helping the prop men with Larry's props -- the wig handlers and wardrobe ladies were up from the basement helping the dresser with his changes -- no one getting in any one's way, a feat in itself, a bit loving, zealous human machine taking care of one of its own, and when Larry came out for the final "76 Trombones" march-on the house exploded."

This is what humans can do when we care about creating something wonderful for its own sake and support each other to do our job, no matter how big or small. When one of us is vulnerable, instead of shunning or excluding him, we can redouble our efforts to enable him to perform at his best.