- Springfield, MA - June 26, 1967 -

Judy Garland
Puts Over Her Songs in Tent Show
By Elliot Nelson, Boston, Record-American

At the Storrowton theater, a summer music tent on the grounds of the Eastern State Exposition, Judy Garland put on a good show Monday evening.

Opening a week in 'The Judy Garland Show,' which consists pretty largely in her own personal appearances, she sang fifteen or twenty of the songs which have made her famous, or vice versa, and while stirring 2000 of her partisans to something like happy hysteria impressed some of the rest of us by her showmanship.

Judy's voice is not what it used to be: the pitch is off at times, and at times there is a grievous stridency. She occasionally forgets a line of lyrics, a most unpleasant fault. But she doesn't falter: she keeps going at the top of her bent, creating an atmosphere of friendly acceptance and proving moment by moment and song by song that she knows all there is to know about how to hold, to please, to stir and delight an audience.

Judy is skinny at this time in her life: not slender, but skinny. Architecturally, she resembles Twiggy. In a spangled or beaded 'evening pants suit,' she looks glamorous. Her hair is short of windblown bob, in the usual Garland style, but with a hint - no more than a hint--of gray.

It is obvious as you watch her circle the stage, looping the long wire of a microphone around like a lasso, that Judy is no longer a girl. That's sad because she was one of the loveliest of all the girls of Show Business and it seemed right that she should go on being just that.

But just when you begin to regret the hints of passing years that time has etched into her face, she lights up with laughter, and there in her eyes is the girl again. Or she pitches into a song that she sang twenty years ago and gives it the same lift and same lilt and the same shouting, stomping exultation that marked all her good work in her best years. 

She stalks about with her shoulders high and her head held just a little back. Sometimes as she croons or pleads or purrs or hollers into the microphone she leans way back as though she were eager to project her voice from a completely open throat. It is fascinating to watch her work, to see her use natural talent and personality in tandem with knowing showmanship, to force and hold the attention and to stimulate the quick response of 2000 people. She can sing a song with ridiculous lyrics and make it seem downright persuasive and significant. She can hold her microphone under a baby spot cannily projecting and, looking suddenly like a little girl, sing 'Ol Man River' as though it had personal and deep meaning for her--and for everyone in the audience. 'Ol Man River is a great canticle of Negro stevedores on the Mississippi. It has nothing whatever to do with Judy Garland. But it seems to, when she sings it.

She is raucous in some songs, and seems in these cases to be enjoying herself most, as though rowdyism were part of her nature; or as though, perhaps she just likes to kick over the traces and whoop. In one noisy song which celebrates the 'Clang, Clang, Clang' of the trolley, she dropped out a line or two but went coolly ahead: what difference does it make?

In some numbers she was off key; in others, when she felt some danger in an approaching high note, she slid shrewdly away from it: she spoke words that were meant to be sung--by lesser artists that is.

When the audience had worked itself into a frenzy of enthusiasm--they stood and cheered her five times in an hour--she brought onto the stage a tall skinny teenager, her daughter, who sang off key 'What's It All About, Mommy?' and made a hit; then introduced her little boy, Joe Luft, who can't be more than nine but is bright and cute (so is the girl!) and who played the drums in the pit and then on stage.

Those who remember Judy with affection from away back had best keep in mind, if they intend to watch her at West Springfield, that she is no longer a girl. She is still, however, a remarkable entertainer, a hard-selling songster with an unmatched style.

There was a touch of tension in the tent at Storrowton Theater Monday night long before Judy Garland appeared. And as her overture began to end, people in the audience began to stand and crane their necks to watch her entrance. There was a crackle of excitement running through the crowd...the applause started before most of the people could see her. It was welling up from those near her as she worked her way down the ramp toward the stage...slight, fragile, almost lost.....but vibrant.

She was a success in Storrowton before she reached the stage. And she was a success on the stage. A tremendous success...even her little failures were applauded.

At first sight she was startling. She wore a brilliant mod suit, sharp shoulders, square, slightly flared jacket, subdued bell-bottom trousers, rust and gold glittering gold and green sequins and glass beads sewn precisely on the swirling paisley pattern. At second sight she was vaguely disquieting but commanding. She paced about the stage restlessly, kicking the mike cord aside.

She was lean and springy, nimble, nervous...feline.

She purred. Her voice was husky. It showed the years of unfair demands she made on it...outrageous demands. She demanded the ultimate from it again Monday. She put everything she had into the songs, and the voice was not always up to the demand. It broke now and then, wabbled sometimes and gradually roughened from the pressure. It also moved the listeners to the edges of their seats and raised many of them to their feet on nearly every song. 

There were great cheers, of course, for songs like 'Over the Rainbow,' the song no one can hear without thinking of Judy.  But the cheers were as much for the girl as for the song. The shouting for others, Though, like 'Old Man River,' was only for the song and its performance. Who could have predicted this little girl with her air of insecurity and suspense could have produced 'Old Man River' with such dramatic power? There were many...all familiar, some in medleys, some standing alone, all owned by Judy Monday night.

The listeners hung on every note, smiled indulgently at the little fluffs, laughed at Judy's clownish, leggy stride, sudden kicks and bizarre quirks of motion. They sighed with nostalgia at the old songs and sat up rigid with response when she arched her back, tilted her head way back and sent the big climactic notes straight up with everything she had. And they smiled, too, when she directed lyrics with special meaning straight to her son and daughter, Joey, 12, and Lorna, 14, children of her former husband and present manager, Sid Luft. They were sitting in the front row. 

Judy won another audience Monday, with pure power of personality. She is one of the experiences of the age.

The personal magnetism that is Judy Garland brought last night's half-capacity audience springing to it's feet, lustily cheering as the tiny, sequined pants-suited star of two generations came bouncing down to the Storrowton Theater stage. "Judy! Judy!' sang out a cluster of teenagers in the second row and a middle-aged man 'down front' bellowed, 'You're my favorite!' as she stepped into the spotlight. 'Sing San Francisco!' and 'Let's hear 'Chicago!' were shouted pleadingly as she bowed graciously to the far reaches of the 2,300-capacity in the round tent.

Miss Garland belted out 'I Feel a Song Coming On' and 'Almost LIke Being in Love' and gave 'Just in Time' a piquancy that was a joy to behold. She segued into 'You Made Me Love You' and then asked the absorbed audience to join her in singing 'For Me and My Gal.' Another outburst of tent-deafening audience ovation greeted 'The Trolley Song.'

14-year-old daughter Lorna, and 12-year-old son, Joe, did 'turns' on stage next, helping Mom with 'What's It All About' (Alfie) and 'Together' (Lorna singing, Joe attending to drums). Youthful vigor prevailed.

Miss Garland concluded with 'That's entertainment,' 'Ole Man River,' 'San Francisco,' and 'Rockabye Your Baby.' She started to leave the stage, and cries insisted 'No! No!'.

If the partisan patrons had had their way, they'd have been sitting at Storrowton early this morning watching one of the entertainment world's legendary figures snapping her fingers, tapping her toes and singing with a throat-catching vibrancy mindful of vitality that first brought her stardom 30 years ago. 

Supporting acts, comic Rip Taylor and singer-dancer John Bubbles did right fine, considering the audience had come  repared to see and hear only the headliner, a gamey gal they'd long ago fondly categorize with superlatives.

Judy Garland, the show-woman she is, again stole the hearts and brought back memories to 'her public' in the Storrowton Theater Monday night.

At first sight of her, the audience responded with loud applause, cheers, and shouts for the girl who rose to fame as Dorothy in 'The Wizard of Oz.' Sparkling was the only word to describe her opening night.

The suit she wore sparkled with glittering rust, gold and green sequins and beads. Her eyes sparkled with tears as she heard her 14-year-old daughter Lorna sing 'Alfie,' substituting the word 'Mommy' for 'Alfie.' The eyes of the audience sparkled as  Judy reminisced with many of her great hits.

Though older and having been through many trying ordeals, as soon as the music began, Judy was in full control--she was in the process of luring the audience and capturing the hearts of 'her fans,' many of whom remember seeing her in such hits as 'A Star is Born' and 'Judgment at Nuremberg.'

She directed many a song to her son, Joe, and daughter, both seated in the front row. They responded with smiles and, most often, tears.

The audience didn't need time to warm up to Judy. As soon as she began to sing, they were warmed up. Throughout the performance the fans shouted for requests that only Judy can sing. Her 'old familiar songs,' some sung in medley fashion, included: ...Do I love You, etc. 

Judy seemed to be nervous. She danced around the stage adding sudden kicks to her walk. She sang. She danced. She laughed. And when it was over, she cried. Judy Garland, the show-woman was trying her best--and the audience knew it.