"Encore, Erskine"

John Erskine, professor of English at Columbia University, last year startled his pupils. Smiling gently behind his dignified professorial mask, he published an intimate, provocative, highly entertaining novel which immediately became a bestseller, The Private Life of Helen of Troy, (TIME, Nov. 23, BOOKS).

Last week Professor John Erskine startled Columbia again. It was a hot night on Morningside Heights. The Columbia Gymnasium was packed by people who had come not only to hear Professor Walter Henry Hall lead his symphony orchestra through Beethoven's overture to "Egmont" and Mendelssohn's "Hebrides" overture, but likewise to investigate an extraordinary item printed in the pro- gram: Piano concerto in D major Mozart

Soloist, Professor Erskine

A few undergraduates were aware that their pet professor strummed a bit now and then. A few of the faculty recalled that music had been Erskine's love before English-teaching; that he had studied and composed under famed Edward Alexander MacDowell. But John Erskine is 46; that was long ago. Astonishment was general, therefore, when Professor Erskine appeared, quite professionally late for his first large audience in years, settled delicately into position and let flow from his fingers a performance quite as smooth and sophisticated as the conversation he had let fall from Trojan and Hellenic lips in his literary surprise. Once a breeze ruffled the music. Unruffled himself, Pianist Erskine caught the sheets and proceeded without a hitch. Once, to the dismay of the accompanying violins, the piano made an unexpected departure from the score, necessitating a momentary halt. "My fault," apologized the professor gravely, and resumed the cadenza. Prolonged applause honored this coolness as much as the technical skill, but loud cries of "Encore, Erskine!" did not distract the whimsical professor from his next business of moment--smoking a backstage cigaret.