And while the juggling ranges from frantic to classy to downright bizarre (ie., The Champs's Three Object Challenge) The Wall Street Journal points out that fans love them most because of their skits and extended jokes. "They never shut up... pattering about Picasso and Zen, humming Wagner, and punning continuously," said the paper.

It's a style of New Vaudeville all-purpose theatre that modern-day audiences appar­ently appreciate. You can't strictly describe them as jugglers because they do it all ­ comedy, magic, mime, physical clowning and prop manipulation all in one package.

Serendipitously for the group and their legion fans, the players have remained virtually the same since the beginning. Tim Furst joined Patterson and Magid with his formal, straight man personna in 1975 and Randy Nelson joined a year later. Nelson took one sabbatical in 1980 and the happy and loveable Sam Williams was added to the troupe. When Nelson returned in 1983 they were a quintet until he left forever in 1988, leaving the present quartet.

The group attributes success in pan to the fact that a good, solid show was developed before any performance took place. In 1978 they were "discovered" and began showcasing at regional experimental stages like the Guthrie in Minneapolis, the Arena in Washington and the Goodman Theatre in Chicago. "Juggling and Cheap Theatrics" won a special Off-Broadway Obie Award in 1979. They were also unafraid to rent theatre space, buy buses and sets and com­puters and pay for pub­licity, and the balloon was launched.

It has not been simple, they hasten to point out. As Furst said, the logistics of moving a show of this caliber and size all over the place is staggering. He reports an average working day lasts 40 hours. Yet the four have do an average of nine months of touring and 200 gigs a year.

"Theatre of the Air," shows how the Karamazovs have managed to elevate a street performing style of showmanship to theatres and floodlights. Street-smart playful interaction and gut-level communication with the crowd are no less powerful and effective in these sophisticated venues. Watching the four stop the show in the first act to chastise a family of latecomers warms the audience up to these master tossers while introducing tension, the comic's screwdriver.

A hilarious parody of Vaudeville and the general dynamics of balance holds the audi­ence gripped as Magid attempts to put a monacle into his eye, catch a pop-up toy and light a cigar before a burning match reaches his finger. Done silently and with a serious face, this is a failsafe bit which proves to be an excellent mood-setter.

Their music has always been superb, most of it written by Doug Wieselman, with whom they have collaborated since college days. It's live and original from the accomplished players themselves and/or their excellent show band.

Importantly, the music is not just for background, but plays a pivotal part in their skits. There's a lively music piece where Patterson, Williams and Magid carry a bustling tune as the somber Furst performs an impeccable three-club routine. Poor Williams has a rough time of it, though, as his horn keeps knocking his sombrero off. The momentum builds as the three musicians vie for the spotlight, exchanging domineering leads in hilarious fashion.

Patterson maintains that making their environmental awareness finale piece, "The Whole World's Gotta Learn To Juggle," sound like music is the hardest technical challenge in the show.