I WAS SEVEN years old the first time I saw You're A Good Man, Charlie Brown. A friend of mine and his parents took me down to the St. Mark's Place Theater in New York, where Gary Burghoff (later to gain fame as Radar of M*A*S*H) played the title role. I remember waiting for the actors to emerge after the performance so they could sign my program. I'd have probably sat through the show ten or 20 times given the chance, and most of my friends would have stayed with me.

Fourteen years and four or five version later, I've learned that Charlie Brown is no work of art, but it still manages to instruct and delight about as well as any show of its kind. One of the children who sat cross-legged in front of the first row in the South House dining hall confirmed its didactic capabilities last Saturday night. He asked me who Socrates was, obviously not understanding an allusion Linus made when he tells Lucy to know herself. There is no doubt, however, that this youngster could relate to the abandon with which Linus sucked his thumb and held his blanket.

The South House production, ensconced in Jonathan Star's invitingly-blue, comic-strip backdrop, succeeds because it doesn't take itself too seriously. The actors all capture the innocence that each part demands and, at the same time, deliver an untortured and easy-going rendition of their characters. Director Becky Stone leads them through the least playful scenes with a great deal of common sense. She understands that the show's primary goal is to entertain, and wields a strong supervisory hand so that Charlie Brown stays far away from its moralizing potential.

Stone has transmitted her interpretation of the musical to her actors extremely well. Ben Schatz as Snoopy and Allen Gifford as Linus have clearly gotten the message that they should just have a good time out on stage. In "The Book Report," Linus harangues the gang on the deeply rooted rivalry between Flopsy, Mopsy, and Peter Rabbit, and the dichotomous nature of Farmer MacGregor's character as farmer and humanitarian. There's no way to hide the laughter you're trying to suppress so the person next to you won't think you're incredibly silly.

Everyone knows the story--of Charlie Brown and his failures; of the passion Schroeder feels for Beethoven, only to be harassed by the love-sick Lucy (who in this production cries "Hooray for Barry Manilow" just to get a rise out of the budding pianist); of Snoopy's unending battle with the Red Baron. The small circle of friends grows up in these amusing vignettes, while an occasional moral dots the otherwise harmless script. There's not an undergraduate who in his youth didn't toss a few "good griefs" into the wind at a younger sibling.

Royce Miller in the title role blushes so well on stage you believe he's embarrassed when the illusory little red-haired girl won't look at him eating his peanut butter sandwich during lunch hour. Unfortunately, Miller's singing leaves a lot to be desired. It suffers from muffed lines and off-pitch sounds.

Ben Schatz portrays perhaps the first mustachioed Snoopy ever seen on stage with much comic skill. Schatz falters when he fails to turn "Suppertime," his rollicking song and dance about eating his dinner, into the showstopper it's meant to be. Perhaps his lackluster performance can be attributed in part to the band, which seems slightly off beat in this number. For most of the show, however, the orchestra has the audience tapping its feet, and those who know the words singing along.

Most of the other singing, particularly Gifford's and Ellen Zachos' Lucy, is more than adequate. The siblings have strong voices, and it's too bad the music in the show can't provide more of a challenge for them. They have the range to do far more than they're given, as do Kathy Teague as Patty and John Sneath as Schroeder.

THE INABILITY of the show to measure up to the quality of the acting highlights Charlie Brown's greatest flaw. As a musical, it's very difficult to take seriously. It powder puffs its way across the stage, and nothing more. The children in the audience have a great time, but the cynical undergraduate theatergoer may ask why the South House Drama Society selected Charlie Brown.

Those who go to Charlie Brown expecting profound theater will leave disappointed. But the play, more than anything else, provides an alternative. Admittedly, it's easy to pull off Charlie Brown. But the sublime needs the ridiculous to be sublime, and Charlie Brown acts as a foil for all the campus theater that takes itself too seriously.

If you still get excited over a huge scoop of chocolate ice cream, have an urge to play cat's cradle, or cling to some childhood fetish, than Charlie Brown will appeal to you. At South House, the actors bring Charlie Schultz's comic strip to life. It's a two-hour ice cream cone with a lot of flavor.