Everyone who was anyone was there, no matter how long ago it was they were anyone: Donna Summer, Mickey Rooney, the Doobie Brothers, Jill St John. Even the hotter guests had been on ice for a good quarter-century. If my merchandising genius of a hubby did that to me, I'd beat him up. Whether or not Liza can recover her voice, it is doubtful whether she'll ever recover from the 16-month stewardship of her tacky Svengali, who moved her firmly from the sympathetically self-destructive category to camp joke. History repeats itself: if Judy's decline was the tragedy, Liza's is a farce. Which, when you think about it, is even sadder.