Abe's Turbulent Shakedown Cruise

Only hours after John Vliet Lindsay was sworn in as mayor of New York eight years ago, 33,000 transit workers walked off their jobs and brought the city dangerously close to paralysis. Lindsay's successor, 67-year-old Abraham Beame, the city's first Jewish mayor, has faced no comparable calamities since becoming the new tenant in Gracie Mansion. But his opening weeks have not been as smooth as cream cheese either. Having based his political reputation on a decades-long record of personal integrity, Beame pledged during his campaign "to make our administration a model of honest government." Nonetheless, he has been singularly unlucky in choosing top appointees who could measure up to his lofty standards under scrutiny.

Yule Letter. Beame ran into trouble with one of his first nominees. As a reward for long service to the city's Democratic regulars, he named Seymour Terry, 55, his official campaign manager and a Queens insurance man, to a $39,500-a-year post as a special assistant to the mayor. Terry celebrated by sending 600 clients a yuletide letter that could have been phrased more discreetly, to say the least. "My new circumstances," went the message, "will no doubt enable you to get even greater benefits from your association with Terry Brokerage Co. than you have heretofore." With his case before the board of ethics, Terry weakly protested that "my grammar used to be better until I began meeting with the press." Shortly afterward, he withdrew his nomination.

Beame has not had much better luck in filling one of his city's three deputy mayor posts. During his campaign, Beame repeatedly noted that the forces holding New York's ethnic and religious groups together were far stronger than those dividing them. To add more cement, he promised to name a black--the first to hold so high a post--as deputy mayor for planning. Shortly after his election, Beame selected David N. Dinkins, 46, a Harlem lawyer who had served with distinction as the city's election board president in 1972-73. Five weeks later, Dinkins called a press conference to admit tearfully what had been learned by the city's tough investigation commission: that he had failed to file city, state or federal income tax returns for the past four years. "I did not seek to evade payment of taxes," he tried lamely to explain. "But I neglected, I failed, to file."

Next Beame chose Joseph L. Galiber, 49, a lawyer and state senator from The Bronx. It was another popular selection: the 6-ft. 4-in. Galiber had been well known in New York ever since he was co-captain of the 1950 City College basketball team that won two national tournaments. Two weeks ago, as some 75 friends and relatives of the nominee gathered happily at the city hall rotunda for the swearing-in, a police guard entered the room and announced tersely: "The ceremony is canceled." Reason: Beame had just learned of an alleged $2,050 irregularity in Galiber's use of funds in an unsuccessful 1973 primary campaign for comptroller. Galiber denied any wrongdoing, but he removed himself from consideration.

While Beame was thoroughly embarrassed by the mess, about the worst that could fairly be said is that he did not check out his nominees thoroughly enough--or quickly enough. Nevertheless, some critics went far beyond that. Accusing Beame of "racism," a group of 14 black ministers blamed him, with stunning illogic, for creating "the clear impression . . . that there are no available black leaders whose personal conduct and judgment can stand rigorous scrutiny." Writer Jimmy Breslin came up with one of his sidewalk profundities. Beame's mistake "comes not out of malice," he said. "It comes from age . . . The guy is out of his depth."

Last week Beame took a third swing and connected pretty solidly. After ordering a quiet inquiry into his nominee's background, the mayor announced his choice and swore him in less than 24 hours later before some 300 cheering onlookers, most of them black. The new deputy mayor is Paul Gibson Jr., 46, who has been employed for the past five years as American Airlines' vice president for community affairs. "Three out of 8 million is not bad," he joked amiably at the ceremony.

Ample Egos. With most of his official family finally in place, Beame can pay more attention to providing the kind of leadership that he knows best: hammering away slowly, methodically, but thoroughly at the city's problems. Beame has no intention of trying to follow Lindsay as a spokesman for the nation's cities or as a glamorous national figure. That is just as well, for he could hardly fill such roles. An accountant, raised on New York's Lower East Side, he stands only 5 ft. 2 in. and is as unprepossessing as his lanky predecessor is dashing. But after a lifetime of service at all levels of city government, Beame may have the kind of bone-deep savvy that can make things work in a city where all too often they have not.

For one thing, he has already held a friendly meeting with New York Governor Malcolm Wilson and key state legislators. Beame hopes to end the long-running city-state feud created when the ample egos of Lindsay and former Governor Nelson Rockefeller came into thudding collision. In addition, Beame weathered a potentially serious crisis with flying colors--and little credit for an adroit behind-the-scenes performance. Faced with a shortage of fuel for municipal vehicles that cut some police patrols in crime-wary New York, Beame put in a direct call to Energy Czar William Simon, a former Wall Street bond trader. Simon promptly dispatched an aide to New York to help straighten out the problem.

Beame is not likely to lack for other emergencies. Last week a walkout of custodians kept more than 800,000 students from attending the city's public schools, and a wildcat strike at New York's biggest produce warehouse was beginning to cause shortages of fresh fruit and vegetables at small markets all over the Big Apple.

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