In 1981, Kenny Schaffer turned his satellite dish to the eastern sky and zeroed in on a fuzzy Soviet television signal. Then, as now, he spoke no Russian, but watched in fascination.

"They're bozos like us," he remembers concluding.

Mr. Schaffer learned to bring the signal in at broadcast quality and, in 1984, sold his system to Columbia University, where Russian language students now cluster to watch game and aerobics shows from Moscow.

So far, six other colleges have bought the package at up to $55,000 each, while competitors have sold at least a dozen more around the country

Mr. Schaffer's Interest in things Russian has grown apace. He recently bought from the Soviet Government the right to record the trial of Mathias Rust, the 19-yearold West German who flew a plane from Helsinki to Moscow, landing in Red Square, and was recently sentenced to four years in a labor camp. So far, Western news organizations have rejected the film, calling it checkbook journalism.

"The footage is sitting on top of my refrigerator, where the cat sleeps," Mr. Schaffer said in his enthused, mile a-minute style.

His new mission is bringing rock and American TV to the Russians.

Sure, Kenny knew he was smart, even eccentric. "I didn't think I was some brilliant little kid," Mr. Schaffer said. When he was 9 years old, he became one of the youngest ham radio operators in the country. In 1964, while a student at the Bronx High School of Science, he achieved the second fastest transmission speed in a global Code competition. Mr. Schaffer, who is 39, left City College after discovering rock-and-roll and a future so golden that it did not require the wearing of socks, much less a sheepskin.

His trek has taken him from profitable inventions to the company of the Roiling Stones, John Lennon and Sting. It is to continue tomorrow, when he leaves for Moscow to pursue his new mission --- bringing rock and Amerikanski television to the Soviet Union.

While still in college, Mr. Schaffer built a recording studio whose first record, "Walk Away Renne" by Left Banke soared to No. I on the pop charts. lie was a publicist for Jimi Hendrix, Alice Cooper, Timothy Leary and even, at the behest of the American Museum of Natural History, the Comet Kahoutek. What became an intergalactic dud was "the Alice Cooper of comets," according to Mr. Schaffer's publicity.

Mr. Schaffer also perfected those technological mainstays of rock, the cordless electric guitar and microphone. He made plenty of money, but could have banked millions more had he thought to get patents.

He also crafted the guitar that his friend John Lennon used on his last recording, an instrument resembling, he said, "a spaceship from Star Trek."

Mr. Schaffer's motives were always clear. "I got into rock-and-roll to meet girls," he said.

But his expertise in electronics was equally obvious - to the extent that Electronics Week magazine once called him an "inventor and philosopher of science."

Mr. Schaffer accepts the compliment, but has his own definition of inventor. "An inventor is some kind of pervert," he said. "He looks at the world and sees it weird."

One result of his tinkering has been a growing business of East-West contact, and not just for the American market.

"The Soviet Union is opening up and it's like a gold rush," he said.

Among other projects, he has arranged for top Soviet rock acts to come here, for the showing of 66 hours of live Soviet television last February on cable and for "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" to be broadcast from Moscow.

He will not reveal details of current talks to sell the Russians vastly more programming. than the rock documentaries they have already bought. One possible clue: "Once they see 'Mr. Ed,' the place will never he the same." he said.

That thought echoes an adage hanging from the wall of his midtown office: "No country can be entirely foreign once you've gotten to know its weatherlady."

Back in 1975, Mr. Schaffer's girlfriend was manager of a Rolling Stones tour and he went along, conjuring up the strangest opening acts.

Once, he booked an act called Benny the Bomb, who went on after a daring stunt pilot. Benny's specialty was getting in a small wooden cage, then blowing it lip with dynamite --- all for $4,700.

After the explosion. Benny staggered out of the charred remains of his cage, clothes torn, waved at the audience and shuffled backstage.

"You the guy who did the flying?" Benny said to the pilot. "You gotta be crazy." A year later, the wings of that same pilot's plane broke off. Benny continues to blow himself up, from time to time.

"It's a metaphor for rock-and-roll, the Russians and most everything," Mr. Schaffer said. "Who's crazy?"

THE NEW YORK TIMES