- Cincinnati Gardens -

Judy Leaves After Cinci Row
Associated Press

Singer Judy Garland left Cincinnati yesterday for an unannounced destination after a tempestuous session Saturday night in which about 1,000 persons besieged her dressing room after she broke off a concert because of illness.   A spokesman for the promoters of the concert said he 'thought' Miss Garland was going to California, but he did not know where.  When it was announced the concert would not be completed, a spokesman told the audience Miss Garland had said, 'I am very sorry.  I became ill and I cannot sing for you.  I will be back again to sing for you for free.'  Despite that, part of the crowd surged around the star's dressing room, shouting 'We want our money back!  Do we get refunds?'  Miss Garland finally was taken to the hotel where she has been staying since her arrival here earlier this week.  There were no refunds made.  A statement issued by the promoters said:  'Since one-half of the performance had been completed, similar to 4 1/2 innings of a baseball game and that, in effect, Miss Garland's second half consisted of only 20 minutes, no refunds will be made.  However, negotiations began immediately with Miss Garland's agents in an attempt to bring her back to Cincinnati to complete her engagement.  If these negotiations are successful, patrons holding ticket stubs to the May 29 concert will be admitted free of charge.'  The promoters said Miss Garland had been under the care of a Cincinnati physician, Dr. James H. Spraul, since she came here and apparently was suffering from a virus infection, similar to the flu.  After performing for 32 minutes, she called for Dr. Spraul.  Dr. Louis Kreindler of New York, who was here were also called.  It was announced that she had a temperature of 103 and that the doctors declined to allow her to continue with the performance.  The performance here had a top admission price of $7.50.  The crowd was estimated at about 4,500.

A tearful Judy Garland went on stage in a bathrobe after a one-hour intermission and admitted she couldn't finish her show at Cincinnati Gardens Saturday night.  "I've been fighting flue for three days," she said.  "The doctors tell me I shouldn't sing."  Approximately 1,000 persons milled around the Cincinnati Gardens box office following the abbreviated show, calling, "We want our money back" and "Do we get refunds?"  With her was Dr. Louis Kreindler, who was called backstage after the songstress sang the first six numbers on her schedule.  A member of her troop said that she had a temperature of 102 degrees.  While singing, she did not show that she was ill.  However, she was observed to rub her forehead and clutch her throat while singing "San Francisco."

Cincinnati will not soon forget Judy Garland.  But any image of the singer had as young Dorothy of THE WIZARD OF OZ singing 'Over the Rainbow' is gone forever.  Miss Garland, sick, fluttery, uncertain and seemingly of another world, quit after six song and 18 minutes of her concert at Cincinnati Gardens Saturday night.  Three doctors, one flown in from New York, agreed she was too ill to continue.  So today, the affair has become a tussle between the local promoters and Judy's entourage, as to whether the show will be completed here at a future date.  Dino J. Santangelo, producer of the show for local backers, issued a statement indicating she might return, and that holders of ticket stubs from Saturday's concert would be admitted free.

But Guy McElwaine, Judy's personal press agent from Los Angeles, had this to say:  "She means it when she says it. But she doesn't realize it would cost her $8,000 just to come back here."  Legally, Miss Garland is clear.  She was paid her $20,000 fee an hour before taking the stage Saturday night.  And the show-business union, AGVA upholds its ruling that half a performance constitutes a full performance.

And one would have to believe in miracles to think she would come back here to work for free.  The show had a gross of about $20,000 after taxes, which means approximately a $7,000 loss for backers.

It was a fiasco from start to finish.  When ticket sales lagged, Miss Garland came to town for what was to have been four days of promotion.  It consisted of a 40-minute meeting with the press and radio, at which time they were told not to ask about any of Judy's past.  Miss Garland spent several of her nights touring night clubs where she was anything but inconspicuous by her giddy behavior.

Although advance announcements said Cincinnati Gardens was to be garlanded with flowers for the occasion, the stage held only two potted plants.  Worse, the stage and wall behind her were hung with yellow tablecloths, with wrinkles showing and each flapping independently in the breeze.  Discounting the less-than-adequate appearance of the stage, Miss Garland started out promisingly.  She seemed to be in good voice, but the incredible acoustics at the Gardens made her singing impossible to decipher.  Some of the patrons spent her 18 minutes on stage shouting that she couldn't be heard.  Miss Garland spoke only a sentence or two in her 18 minutes, being content to sing and flutter her hands and act out words via facial expressions.  The intermission stretched to an hour, during which the three doctors examined her.  One was Dr. James H. Spraul and Dr. Louis Kreindler, a specialist in asthma, hay fever and allergies, both of Cincinnati.

They agreed she had a virus and a temperature of 102 and should not continue.  No one quite agrees on who suggested she should go back on the stage to display her illness.  Her press agent, Guy McElwaine, tells me "I think it was her idea.  She wanted to go one (singing) and just couldn't."  The difference between the Judy that sang and the Judy who tottered back to explain was like one actress made up for two different roles.  It gave the whole nasty event a lunatic flavor.

At any rate, McElwaine explains that Judy began feeling ill Wednesday night after she left the Playboy Club and 'was worse Thursday.  Friday we sent for Dr. Osserman.  Judy will be fine by tomorrow.  That's what's so terrible about this,' her publicist moaned.  According to him, "She doesn't like to miss performances.  When I took her down the stage steps (for intermission) she was shaking like a leaf."  He said she took medication during the intermission.  And of her reputation for being erratic in her concert appearances, McElwaine said, "For some reason she has this stigma of unreliability.  But if you look over her record for the last five years, you're hard-pressed to find anything."

It was reported Miss Garland was going into the hospital in Los Angeles when she left town Sunday.  Her next job is at the Thunderbird in Las Vegas June 15th for two weeks.  The scene at Cincinnati Gardens when her concert was so mysteriously ended Saturday night was a real collector's item event.  While the crowd was unquestionably composed of cult-like Judy fans, they were angry.  They accepted her on-stage explanation of illness with a minimum of booing, but they wanted their money back.  I would estimate more than 1,000 of them congregated at the box office windows, pounding on the glass and shouting.  When the windows shattered, a teen-age girl gathered up the glass.  The people then wandered aimlessly inside the Gardens, looking for either Judy or concert officials.

One group humorously sang "We Shall Overcome."  A young matron sang several of Judy's songs before an admiring knot of people in the hallway, and when they applauded, she whirled round and round and murmured, "I'm adored."  At the request of Garden's police, producer Santangelo and Judy's personal manager, David Begelman, I finally went to the stage and told the few hundred people still there at 12:20 a.m. that the situation was so complicated they would have to watch the newspaper for information.

After that, the crowd drifted away.  Most of the dissidents who were the most upset were from distant points.  One woman from New York called herself a two-time loser.  She said she was at last week's Clay-Liston fight, "and now this."  A teen-age girl from Dayton explained soberly that she had done ironing for 14 1/2 hours to be able to buy a $7.50 ticket to see Judy.  She brought along her younger brother.  When the boy objected to some of the things near-by adults were saying about Judy after the cancellation, a man poured beer down the boy's back.

That was the kind of night it was, crazy-quilt and unbelievable.  What little one could see of Judy Garland left an image of sadness and sickness.  I would rather not have seen her at all.  Her show was badly promoted; Miss Garland was so over protected as to suggest she needed guarding; the climax was right out of a movie scene, with two doctors leading her on stage as if they were all headed for the guillotine.  It was as loony as it was unforgettable.  But mostly, it was unforgivable.  Someone should be ashamed.