"I've never seen so many women in my life," grumbled a veteran Boston Garden ticket taker as he watched a mass of sequinned bonnets and pink corsages seething through the entrance gates. Pushing a long blue feather out of his eye, he gazed at a red and white "Liberace" placard plastered over the announcement for the previous night's Bruins-Rangers game. "They sure do go for him, don't they," he mused.

Inside, the four-tiered garden looked like a convention of the daughters of the American Revolution. Red, white and blue bunting bedecked the railings and a swarm of middle-aged women buzzed excitedly on the covered over hockey rink and in the balconies above. Here and there a man shifted uneasily in his seat, gazing toward the empty stage at one end of the arena.

Finally, about twenty minutes late, the orchestra took its place on the platform, the lights dimmed, and a long blue spotlight dipped toward an lights dimmed, and a long blue spotlight dipped toward an entrance. A pause, the Garden erupted with shrieks of glee as a slickly-tuxedoed figure advanced onto the stage. "It's said another, "Is only his brother, George." George stepped onto the podium, the orchestra blared a crescendo and this time even the initiates let loose as the spotlight picked up another tuxedo. All over the arena, carefully-concealed flashbulbs pulsed with white light.

"Thank you very kindly," said the figure, bowing deeply, "I only wish I could see you all better." The lights went on and the maestro lisped quietly, "Isn't that wonderful, George." The lights dimmed, leaving two mauves spots which focused on a fives-branched candelabra glowing on top of the piano. Resting his fingers on the keyboard, he turned and simpered, "I can't believe it," then swung into the Cornish Rhapsody.

He rose to loud applause spiced with a few frantic squeals and called for "some get acquainted music." Then he minced across the stage, introducing the Jazz trumpeter and finally the blonde harpist-"the only feminine member of our group." "Oh yeh," queried a male voice in the balcony.

"Now I'm going to do that one for the young couple all right George." George nodded. "Before the show a couple, just married this afternoon, sent me a note and asked me to play this song for them. But they asked me to play it early in the evening because they didn't think they'd be able to stay for the whole program. Now, I want the young bride to imagine that her husband is singing this to her, instead of me. It'll be sexier that way."

This was followed by Rhapsody in candlelight--"a little piece I wrote myself," and The Beer barrel Polka-"I used to play this in Milwaukee saloons." Softly tittering figures skittered up the aisles to snap a picture. One teen-ager ducked under an usher's arm and squirmed breathlessly to the edge of the stage." "I see you baby," Libby called.

Intermission, and he returned in a brocade smoking jacket for a little Boogie Woogie. "Let's have a little fun," he cried. "When I pause I want all the girls and women in the audience to yell 'hey!'" An aswering screech. "O.K. fellas, its your turn." A lower-pitched roar. "I told you so, George, I knew men came to my concerts."

Back in the tuxedo and a quieter mood, Liberace announced, "I just can't hold back the good news any longer. Last year we had the biggest crowd we'd ever had at Madison Square garden in New York. Well, tonight we passed it." Cheers and yelps. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen, thank you. You don't know how much your encouragement means to me.

"I hope you'll forgive me for being personal, but I feel you're my friends and its all right to talk personally to your friends. it hasn't always been so good. I'm not ashamed to say that George and I used to pull a coaster-wagon to get relief groceries in the depression...Nowadays at home when I see so many good things to cat, I finish everything on the table." A gray-haired women sighed and cooed, "Just like my boy."