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Despite the desperation surrounding a play in trouble, doctors have strict rules of courtesy. "The first thing you find out is if the author knows that someone is being brought in," says Larry Gelbart (Sly Fox), whose efforts on Ballroom were not enough to keep it from closing. "You owe that to a colleague." Jerome Robbins notes ruefully, "I've needed help too."
Few doctors will talk about how they work their magic. Abe Burrows, who won a Pulitzer Prize for How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, is writing a book about his own 18 productions, but has less to say about What Makes Sammy Run ? and other hits he doctored. "It's like a plastic surgeon who sees a beautiful girl walking down the street," says Burrows. "He doesn't point to her and say, 'You should have seen her before I worked on her.'" If a show is a smash, the original team generally gets the credit, not the doctor. So why does a successful playwright or director answer those frantic calls late at night? "You've got to make a house call," says Gelbart, who, like many play doctors, often slips medical touches into his conversation. He adds, "Any Christ complex you have rises immediately to the top." Power may in fact be the best satisfaction. Says Joe Stein: "I've learned something about what it is like to be a medical specialist. When you make a decision, everybody listens." He pauses and notes, "Of course, by that time, they'd listen to an usher."