- Merriweather Post Pavilion -

Voice Or No, Judy Packs a Wallop
By Emerson Beauchamp - Washington Star

Audiences, says Judy Garland, "have kept me alive."  Anyone who doubts that the statement is literally true should have been at the Merriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Md., last night.  Tonight will do just as well.  One Garland performances is pretty much like another, and the voice, saddest of all to say, no longer varies.  The voice -- to say it and get it over with - is just about gone.  There were times last night when she sounded like the Judy of old, notably in ROCKABYE, always one of her best numbers; in it's prime, her version was as good as Jolson's.  A relative newcomer to the Garland repertoire, OLD MAN RIVER, also sounded pretty good.  Most of the songs, however, were only a croaky shadow of the way they used to sound.

But the performance!  There is no one, and there probably never has been anyone, who can create the instant love affair with an audience that Judy generates, and she can do it with or without a voice.  The years of torment in the past are part of it, of course, and doesn't she know it!  Last night's show which included only two encores, ended with OVER THE RAINBOW.  Judy started to sit down cross-legged, the way she did it the first time she played the Palace in 1951, then collapsed prone on the stage with a heaving sigh, finally sat up and swung her legs around behind her.  "If happy little bluebirds fly - - " she sang.  "I think I've made it -- I really think I'm over the rainbow -- thank you very much, all of you -- I think I've made it!"  The moment is carefully staged, of course, but (1) there is not another performer in show business who could get away with it and (2) for one shocked moment you actually believe that it was spontaneous, a genuine outburst of long-sought happiness.

Something else has been added for the Garland cult -- a patently planted exchange that began with a shouted, "Sing, Frances, sing" from the audience.   "Sing it once for TIME Magazine."  To non-cultists, and non-readers of TIME, the reference was to a story last month that said a 'disproportionate part' of Judy's following 'seems to be homosexual.'  Judy was ready, willing and able to comment.  "I don't care what they say about me," she began, "but when they start attacking my audience...!"  She went on to say a great deal more.

Judy's 14-year-old daughter, Lorna, and her 12-year-old son, Joey joined her and a male dancing trio called the Dunhills (Ed. note:  The Dancing Dunhills replaced John Bubbles, who suffered a heart attack shortly after the Palace engagement closed) in ME & MY SHADOW.  Later Lorna sang (Judy introduced her with the classic line from A STAR IS BORN:  "This is it kid; sing") and Joey played a drum solo.

There is really no point in reviewing Judy Garland, because she is not so much a performer as a religion, and one is either a zealot or one is not.  And if one IS a zealot, she can do no wrong, the opinion of any so-called critic to the contrary.  Such, at any rate, was the impression of this non-zealot got from the wildly enthusiastic, hand clapping, bravo-shouting capacity (3,000) crowd that waited until 10:25 to hear her at Columbia's Merriweather Post Pavilion last night.  "I'm sorry about the delay," she said from the stage, after causing a mild riot by entering down the aisle through the audience.  "For once, it was not my fault."  For once, I believed her, since I, too, had experienced great difficulty finding the Merriweather Post Pavilion and would probably still be wandering around in the wooded sections looking at model homes, if a kindly Hartford county policeman hadn't come along and offered to show me the way.

Miss Garland wore a copper sequined pants suit with green undertones.  Her hair was closely bobbed, her voice somewhat husky, her manner informal and friendly.  The crowd, which as indicated, had greeted her appearance at the rear of the house with the same oceanic swell of sound and movement one is accustomed to seeing and hearing the presidential nominating conventions, really let loose when she began to sing.  Individual spectators yelled endearments at her from the audience.  "I love you, too," said Miss Garland in response to one such shouted expression.  "I really mean that."
They laughed hysterically at every word she said.  "Am I too close to the microphone?"  They laughed.  "Well, if I am."  They laughed again.  They even laughed when her microphone buzzed.

Among the songs Miss Garland sang were such old favorites as THE TROLLEY SONG, YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU, ME & MY GAL (which the audience sang along with her), and such relatively new favorites as JUST IN TIME and WHAT NOW MY LOVE?  She employs two styles of singing -- the schmaltzy, belting style reminiscent of the late Al Jolson and the rather saccharine "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" style reminiscent of herself in THE WIZARD OF OZ.