The little, thin man with a round face, a blinding grin, and white pop-eyes, who seldom appears without a handkerchief in his left hand, kept an impatient audience waiting twenty extra minutes at Symphony Hall last Friday night while he practised his trumpet scales. Then, when he finally appeared, and the band swung through a loud and brassy and the band swung through a loud and brassy "Stompin' At The Savoy" it became clear that Louis Armstrong, at forty-seven, was still a vibrant, entrancing stage personality with a beautifully phrased trumpet and a voice that had lost none of its pre-war quality. It also became clear that his band was too loud. The high points came on the old Armstrong milestones like "Save It Pretty Mama" and "Ain't Misbehavin'" on which Louis sounded just about the same as he has for the last fifteen years.

Velma Middleton, a two hundred pound red hot mama, and Leslie Scott, a romantic baritone, were not particularly remarkable. A better version of "Hey Ba Ba Re Bop" than Middleton's can be heard any night at the "Showtime."

The concert reached a terrific climax with the coming of Billie Holiday dressed in a dazzling evening gown. Each time after her thin, vibrato-less voice had gone through its intense phrasing of a gaunt little tune like "Good Morning Heartache" the crowd clapped ardently and stamped their feel. Finally she did a simple, stark presentation of "Strange Fruit," which carried more punch than Lillian Smith's novel, and then she disappeared despite her howling admirers. They stamped, and shricked, and ranted, and raved. Finally Louis, anxious to get on with the show, said, "Take it easy, she's just gone out to change her dress," and the crowd quieted down. But she never came back.