DAY FOUR The moment-of-truth tapings before live audiences loom—one at 4-30 and one at six. Freddy and Allison seem the souls of composure, but happy-go-lucky Susan appears on the set with nerves frayed and wearing an uncustomary frown. Yesterday," she says to the assembled company, "wasn't fun." (This is news to me; I thought it was terrific fun.) "Everybody screaming and yelling at the top of their lungs all day long! I hope it won't happen again today. I'd rather work late than rush." Pre-opening jitters must afflict everyone every week on ev- ery television show, I think, if even sunshiny Susan succumbs. With the audience almost due to arrive at the theater, Persky is still head-to-head with the actors, putting final touches on their roles. At the last minute, with no apologies, he replaces a segment of the script with new dialogue. ("All right everybody, Act Two, Scene Two is dead." Everybody: "YayH") Susan, having mostly recovered from her gloom, asks for a line to complete a thought. Persky gives it to her—in seconds. For the first time all week, every- one appears in makeup, in wardrobe and—amazingly—in terrific shape. At the taping that evening, big laughs come in the right places; excited bursts of applause follow Allison's rock 'n' roll finale. Everyone leaves humming "Goodbye to You." The incredible alchemy of page-to-stage, transforming base metal into pure gold, has been accomplished. 'The Band Singer" has entered the world!