June 16, 1986

When the Bell telephone system was broken up two and a half years ago, some phone industry executives, government officials and consumer advocates predicted that local rates would double or even triple, forcing telephones out of many homes. Such dire predictions have not come to pass. ''They've increased, but not nearly as much as we expected,'' said Bruce Hagen, commissioner of the North Dakota Public Service Commission and chairman of the communications committee of the National Association of Regulatory Utility Commissioners. Gene Kimmelman, legislative director for the Consumer Federation of America, said the rise in rates had not been minimal, however. ''It's been sigificantly above inflation,'' he said, but conceded that people had not dropped telephone service, as his group had projected would happen. ''To be honest, we painted the worst-case scenario and it hasn't been that bad.''

Jay Meltzer, an apparel industry analyst for Goldman, Sachs & Company, said he was getting tired of being asked whether Perry Ellis, the company, could survive the death of Perry Ellis, the designer. He is not the only one fielding that question. The future of the 10-year-old company has been the talk of Seventh Avenue since the designer died two weeks ago, at age 46. While the future is by no means assured, most observers think the operation will survive. It is a large, well established concern that has grown much beyond the talents of one individual.

Maura and Alfred Dorigo of Secaucus, N.J., flew in here Saturday morning, stepped off the plane and gazed at the wide Nebraska sky. They had never visited the state before, knew no one in Omaha and had no business here. But they were just where they wanted to be - somewhere new at the end of a $49 flight. ''We haven't the faintest idea what we'll face - that's the whole fun of it,'' said Mrs. Dorigo, a first-grade teacher.

HOLE after hole on the back nine, Raymond Floyd's blue-green eyes seemed to be getting bigger and bigger. Playing with him, Payne Stewart noticed those eyes. And up near Shinneock Hills' old white-and-brown gabled clubhouse, Lanny Wadkins was talking about the new United States Open champion's eyes. ''When he sees victory,'' Wadkins said, ''all he sees is the ball going next to the pin.''

In the spring of 1982, John W. Kluge was remodeling Metromedia Inc., a company that he had gained control of 23 years earlier. A television station in Boston was being added to the company's already sizable stockpile of operations, which included radio and TV stations in several major cities, a large outdoor advertising concern, the Harlem Globetrotters basketball team and the Ice Capades. But a lesser-known business seemed to attract a great deal of Mr. Kluge's attention. It was cellular radio - a new type of car telephone still in the laboratory stage - and Metromedia appeared ready to pounce on the perceived opportunity. Pounce it did, and four years later, after prolonged delays and difficult licensing battles, Metromedia is now one of the dominant companies in the cellular business. It operates systems solely or jointly in five major markets: New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Boston and the Baltimore/ Washington area.