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Charming autobiography by the great bandleader (d. 1987), who was always brimming with zip, good humor, and swing This brief book (cowritten with Newsday's jazz critic), keeps a wonderful beat, with Woody blowing infectiously. He never thought much of himself as a clarinetist but knew he was a terrific coach, his word for himself as bandleader. He kept his book loose for each show, feeling his way through the evening piece by piece; kept his bands fresh by having his arrangements clone nearly always by bandmembers themselves; and tried to keep his pieces spare and not overarranged, so they'd swing and not get top-heavy with brass. Herman's herds went through many disbandings and remountings, which he stopped numbering after Herman's Third Herd. The most famous of these erupted during the war years, with wartime customers and record-buyers enjoying the wild-roaring hysteria of Apple Honey and Caldonia. Woody thought that his postwar Second Herd was his best, but postwar audiences didn't want fine musicianship on charts - they already were nostalgic for the old wartime flag-wavers, and Woody found himself fighting uphill to stay fresh. Like Duke Ellington, he never wanted to look back. He had a 46-year marriage to his lovely wife, Charlotte, who recovered from alcoholism through A.A. but died of cancer five years before Woody felt the autumn chill of emphysema and heart disease. His last 20 years were also spent in hock to the IRS because his gambling business manager, in trying to keep a good face on the band's finances, had failed to pay Woody's taxes or the band's federal bucks for the mid-Sixties. Friends (including Sinatra) came through to help him save his house while he lay dying. Well done, and terrific reading against Woody's platters. (Kirkus Reviews)

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