New York: Best Foot Forward

As he watched defenseless delegates from the Democratic National Convention strolling blithely along Eighth Avenue near Times Square one night last week, a native New Yorker feared for their safety. "I kept wanting to shout to them to jump in a cab and get out of there," he exclaimed. "But then I noticed that the whole street was strangely quiet. Most of the usual weird people weren't there."

Was that it? Or was it that--along with countless cops, cabbies, countermen and other normally curmudgeonly denizens of Convention City--the muggers, pickpockets and prostitutes who normally infest the area were on their best behavior? To be sure, the lone Wallace delegate in the Texas delegation lost $500 to a mugger on a fashionable street bordering Central Park late one night. Some Oklahoma delegates had their Berkshire Hotel rooms rifled, but as one of them said: "It could have happened in any city." An Ohioan chased a burglar trying to break into his car, caught him, and returned to find that his car had been towed away from its no-parking zone by police; he paid $75 to get it back.

On the other hand, a cabbie returned a $300 camera left by a photographer in a taxi, and cops actually retrieved the trousers stolen from one delegate's room, returning a wallet. North Dakota Delegate Bonnie Miller, 37, who had said on arrival, "I feel like I'm going to a foreign country," reported at week's end: "The city is full of families and people having fun. I'd just love to stay for a whole month." Texas Delegate Glen Maxey, 24, and a friend, about to be turned away from the posh, 65th-floor Rainbow Room in Rockefeller Center because they were coatless and tieless, reminded the headwaiter that "your mayor told us we could go anywhere we wanted." The headwaiter smiled and, wonder of wonders, escorted them to a window table.

Paddy Goldman, a native working at the Sheraton as a convention hostess, marveled at the "amazing atmosphere of friendliness in the city. Everyone is talking to everyone else and being very helpful. I'm actually sharing cabs with people! Now, when can you get New Yorkers to share cabs? I wonder if I'll be doing it next week."

Despite the turmoil around Madison Square Garden and some key hotels, the city seemed to be under no strain as it handled the great event--in fact, it simply seemed to swallow it up. A few blocks from the convention area, it was as if the 20,000 delegates, alternates, friends, relatives and sundry spear carriers were not even there. It surely must have seemed that way, at least, to numerous barkeeps, concessionaires and other small businessmen, who had been anticipating a bonanza and were bitterly disappointed when none materialized. One cab driver was particularly irritated with the city for carting delegates around in buses. "I got me a sack for all the money I was gonna make on this," he complained. "Now I gotta sell the sack to eat. Business is terrible."

Whatever the account books ultimately say about the convention's impact on New York, the city can enter the event as a distinct plus on the image ledger. On the final night of the convention, Texas delegates held up cards spelling out TEXAS THANKS NEW YORK CITY, and the rest of the crowd began a chant that must have been music to Mayor Abe Beame's ears: "We love New York, we love New York."

Certainly, there were glimpses of the city's seamy side--its grime and crime, high prices and low vices. But the picture that emerged more clearly was of a city that, for all the literature about its coldness, does seem to have a heart beating somewhere in all that concrete.

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