Flim Flam Flummoxed

Harold Hill, the consummate con-man and perrenial pragmatist, stood before a motley band of boys, aged six to seventeen.

Everything was on the line: Hill was looking at serious jail time; he stood to lose the newfound love of his life; and, no matter how this thing turned out, his days of carefree and careless exploiting of all whom he met were probably over.

A life-long con artist, Hill traveled through Iowa in search of “rubes” who would fall for his pitch that the only way to save their city’s youth from the depths of depravity was to establish a boy’s band.

And Hill happened to be selling uniforms and instruments. What a coincidence.

The “Professor” always skipped town immediately after the shipment arrived – first collecting the money, of course. Only then did the unsuspecting parents realize that without instruction, the instruments and outfits were worthless.

Claiming to be the originator of the “Think System,” Hill assured doubters that once the boys were able to imagine themselves playing, they’d discover that the ability to play had only been locked inside them – to be freed by the think system.

The admittedly exciting life of a con artist has an appeal. But it’s also, clearly, on the “dark side of the force.” By living in a world of lies, the con man misses much…

There were bells on the hill
But I never heard them ringing,
No, I never heard them at all
Till there was you.

There were birds in the sky
But I never saw them winging
No, I never saw them at all
Till there was you.

And there was music,
And there were wonderful roses,
They tell me,
In sweet fragrant meadows of dawn, and dew.

There was love all around
But I never heard it singing
No, I never heard it at all
Till there was you!

And so love proved to be both the downfall and the salvation of Harold Hill as he stood before those untrained lads who clutched unfamiliar instruments in their hands and looked at the Music Man with absolute faith and confidence.

“Think, men. Think!”

And, at least in the world of compose Meridith Wilson, love and faith conquered all. The discordant noise that initially came forth from the novice band was transformed into … well, into MUSIC!

The ears and eyes of parents – and of anyone else filled with love – easily transform cacophony into symphony, rags into riches and distrust into acceptance.

Seventy-six trombones led the big parade
With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand.
They were followed by rows and rows of the finest virtuo-
Sos, the cream of ev'ry famous band.

Seventy-six trombones caught the morning sun
With a hundred and ten cornets right behind
There were more than a thousand reeds
Springing up like weeds
There were horns of ev'ry shape and kind.

There were copper bottom tympani in horse platoons
Thundering, thundering all along the way.
Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons,
Each bassoon having it's big, fat say!

There were fifty mounted cannon in the battery
Thundering, thundering louder than before
Clarinets of ev'ry size
And trumpeters who'd improvise
A full octave higher than the score!

Those of you who are You-Tubers, check out these links:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JLDsLeVxOaU&mode=related&search=

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C-L1CRjm9U8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI_Oe-jtgdI