Max Shulman

Sgt. Dan Miller was strolling around his grassy green campus, circa World War II: Leggy coeds flexed and posed, apparently to keep in practice, because, except for a few underage freshman, there were no men in sight. Emboldened by sharp whistles, I stopped and talked to a group of four coeds. "Nice day," I said. "It certainly is, Lieutenant," cooed one, wiggling. "This spring weather," sighed another, slithering sinuously. "It does something to me. Does it do something to you, Captain?"

I'm compelled to tell you how much I appreciate Chris Erskine's columns. Great, great style. He reminds me a lot of Max Shulman, who many readers may be too young to know. (Among other accomplishments, he created the TV show "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.") I don't know how Erskine does it. Every column is a good one. Donald B. Brown Rancho Palos Verdes

Comedy writer Max Shulman, creator of Dobie Gillis and author of numerous books and screenplays, died of cancer Sunday at his Hollywood home. He was 69. The son of a Russian immigrant house painter, Shulman started his literary career writing for the campus humor magazine as an undergraduate at the University of Minnesota. A Doubleday editor was so impressed with the young writer that he encouraged Shulman to write his first novel, "Barefoot Boy With Cheek," published in 1943.

To add to your explanation of the meaning of the term ETAOIN SHRDLU (Letters, March 31), it should be noted that this series of letters was not arbitrarily chosen merely to catch the eye of the typesetter or whomever. They were chosen because they were the letters that were used with the greatest frequency in the English language, and in that order. I recall that Max Shulman named a character in one of his books Etaoin Shrdlu (quite fittingly an editor, I believe). He must have been a distant cousin of Al Capp's Joe Bftsplk.

I'm compelled to tell you how much I appreciate Chris Erskine's columns. Great, great style. He reminds me a lot of Max Shulman, who many readers may be too young to know. (Among other accomplishments, he created the TV show "The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis.") I don't know how Erskine does it. Every column is a good one. Donald B. Brown Rancho Palos Verdes

To add to your explanation of the meaning of the term ETAOIN SHRDLU (Letters, March 31), it should be noted that this series of letters was not arbitrarily chosen merely to catch the eye of the typesetter or whomever. They were chosen because they were the letters that were used with the greatest frequency in the English language, and in that order. I recall that Max Shulman named a character in one of his books Etaoin Shrdlu (quite fittingly an editor, I believe). He must have been a distant cousin of Al Capp's Joe Bftsplk.

Musical Theatre Guild will present a staged concert reading of "How Now, Dow Jones," the 1967 Elmer Bernstein-Carolyn Leigh-Max Shulman sendup of the stock market, on Monday at 7:30 p.m. at the Pasadena Playhouse. Directed by Nick DeGruccio, with musical direction by Brad Ellis, the performance will feature stage veterans Doug Carfrae, Jennifer Gordon, Mary Jo Mecca and Larry Raben.

Betty Shapian, 73, a publicist who handled a number of best-selling authors during a 35-year career, died Monday of cancer at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles. Born in Ridgefield, N.J., Shapian initially worked in the foreign department at Doubleday. She later moved into the publicity department. In the late 1960s, she opened Doubleday's West Coast office. A few years later, she started her own firm, Shapian & Associates, where she handled publicity for writers including William F.

Jean Byron, 80, an actress best known for portraying Patty Duke's mother on the 1960s TV series "The Patty Duke Show," died Feb. 3 from an infection following hip replacement surgery in Mobile, Ala. As Natalie Lane, she was Duke's "Mommo" on the ABC show that aired from 1963 to 1966. When the cast came together for a 1999 reunion show, Byron and Duke reconnected and began speaking every Sunday, they both said at the time. Byron was born Imogene Burkhart in Paducah, Ky.

* At Orange Coast College in Costa Mesa: Rhapsody in Taps, Jan. 29; Glenn Yarborough, Feb. 11; Peking Acrobats, Feb. 12; The Chinese Golden Dragon Acrobats & Magicians, Feb. 18. (714) 432-5880. * At the La Habra Depot Theatre: "How to Eat Like a Child" (youth theater production), Jan. 28-Feb. 26. (310) 905-9708. * At the Orange County Performing Arts Center in Costa Mesa: Dresden Philharmonic, Jan. 25; Pacific Symphony, Feb, 2,3; State Symphony of Russia, Feb.

Sgt. Dan Miller was strolling around his grassy green campus, circa World War II: Leggy coeds flexed and posed, apparently to keep in practice, because, except for a few underage freshman, there were no men in sight. Emboldened by sharp whistles, I stopped and talked to a group of four coeds. "Nice day," I said. "It certainly is, Lieutenant," cooed one, wiggling. "This spring weather," sighed another, slithering sinuously. "It does something to me. Does it do something to you, Captain?"

Comedy writer Max Shulman, creator of Dobie Gillis and author of numerous books and screenplays, died of cancer Sunday at his Hollywood home. He was 69. The son of a Russian immigrant house painter, Shulman started his literary career writing for the campus humor magazine as an undergraduate at the University of Minnesota. A Doubleday editor was so impressed with the young writer that he encouraged Shulman to write his first novel, "Barefoot Boy With Cheek," published in 1943.

Among the many pleasures of Jack O'Brien's hip and zippy revival of "Damn Yankees," now on Broadway after moving from San Diego's Old Globe Theatre, is how it embraces the show's 1950s sensibility while exploiting its retro funkiness. O'Brien brought "Yankees" back with the awareness that the '50s looks more cartoonish every year. But what to do with a revival of Max Shulman's and Robert Paul Smith's 1954 "The Tender Trap"?

The Kneeling Bus by Beverly Coyle (Ticknor & Fields: $18.95; 180 pages). These stories are perfection. Short stories don't get any better than this. Beverly Coyle is as much a dancer as a writer--not a dancer like Fred Astaire but more like Gregory Hines: large in concept, totally full of surprises in how any story turns out, and an absolute master of craft. You never catch Beverly Coyle "performing," you only feel the story unfold, inside you, as you read it.