No Honeymoon

For John Vliet Lindsay, New York City's first Republican mayor in 20 years, the honeymoon ended even before he took office. With retiring Mayor Robert Wagner off on an Acapulco holiday, Lindsay, 44, was saddled with the responsibility for a costly, crippling transit strike that became all but inevitable hours before he was sworn in.

His administration has worn a crisis air ever since. Last week, his tenth in city hall, was no exception. Starting with a virus infection that kept the mayor in bed for two days, it ended with a new rash of charges that Lindsay is ruthless, power-hungry and inept to boot.

The most damaging drumfire of criticism, day after day, came from a police department that over the years had become a powerful and sacrosanct kingdom unto itself. As part of his platform to save the city from despair and dissension, Lindsay had pledged to create a civilian review board to investigate complaints of police brutality. The incumbent commissioner and the department as a whole objected violently to such "interference."

The Cops Complain. Accordingly, Lindsay fired the commissioner and brought in Philadelphia's police commissioner, Howard Leary. Two days later, after consulting with city hall, Leary named his own chief inspector, who is the top uniformed police official. The new chief is Sanford Garelik, a Jewish officer with distinguished professional credentials. Even before Lindsay took office, Republican Senator Jacob Javits, who is also Jewish, had recommended Garelik for elevation. Two former police commissioners, both Democrats, took up the tired cry of "political influence." Three uniformed chiefs resigned as soon as Garelik was promoted over their heads. City Council President Frank O'Connor, a Democrat who wants to run for Governor this year, did his best to capitalize on the feud by dispatching a private investigator to size up the chances of a full-scale investigation.

One reason for the outcry was ethnic. Negroes, Puerto Ricans and other minority groups generally approved of Garelik's promotion, though as the first Jew in memory to become chief inspector, he lacked the Hibernian seal of approval from the top-cop echelon. Another related controversy concerned the John Birch Society. At his first press conference, Leary said that policemen could be Birchers if membership did not conflict with their duties. This horrified the liberal Lindsay, whereupon Leary proclaimed that he was "repelled and nauseated" by Birch dogma and would forbid police membership in the society if he had the legal authority. Lindsay strongly defended himself. "It is sheer insanity," he said, "to insist that I as mayor do not have the obligation to see that any commissioner staffs his department with the best people."

Pasha Moses. The mayor is having only slightly less trouble in his sensible effort to consolidate five uncoordinated traffic and transportation agencies under a single overseer. One effect of the change would be to remove Robert Moses, 77, the city's longtime super-planner and master builder, from the chairmanship of the Triborough Bridge & Tunnel Authority.

Attacking this proposal as "fantastic" and illegal, Moses seemed unwittingly to be speaking for the entire establishment that Lindsay is challenging when he recalled his 40 years as "sultan, vizier, pasha and emir" of assorted public enterprises. The final frustration for Lindsay came at legislative committee hearings, when Bob Wagner questioned the desirability of a transit czar with the acerbic comment that the official "would need to be Superman and Batman rolled into one."

Soft-Shoe Act. Lindsay's other problems seemed almost trivial beside New York City's financial morass. Though Candidate Lindsay blithely said, "There is no question but that the line must be held on taxation," Mayor Lindsay inherited a $400 million deficit in the current fiscal year and an anticipated shortage of nearly $600 million next year. Lindsay now seeks $780 million a year in new tax revenue, including an income levy on residents and commuters that would give New Yorkers the dubious distinction of being the most highly taxed metropolitanites in the country. For this measure he needs approval from the legislature. Its members, who must run for re-election this year, are reluctant to help. New York's Democratic city council is not rushing to Lindsay's assistance either. Meanwhile, the New York Stock Exchange threatens to move away if Lindsay carries out his proposal to increase the tax on stock transfers, which now averages .2% .

The swirl of controversy has largely obscured the mayor's positive achievements, among them excellent appointments to sensitive agencies, notably those responsible for narcotics, welfare, buildings and parks. Though Lindsay's vaunted equanimity has also suffered, he recovered his good humor long enough to supply a surprise postscript to the annual musical lampoon staged by political reporters. Always a show business buff, Lindsay donned straw hat, white gloves and cane for a soft-shoe song-and-dance routine with a professional partner. "Maybe," he quipped, "I can save this show yet." That hopeful observation was clearly not limited to the evening's entertainment.

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