New York Bids Gorbachevs a Grumpy Hello

The supermarket deliveryman pushed his cart full of food up to the policewoman guarding the blue wooden barrier on the street where Soviet President Mikhail S. Gorbachev was staying Tuesday and showed her the order from the apartment building down the block.

Politely but firmly, he was turned away. So were all autos, the bicycle messengers and the man who was late for his doctor’s appointment.

Guarded by scores of police and security agents, surrounded by a hundred reporters and flanked by television trucks and satellite dishes, an ordinary city block on the East Side of Manhattan suddenly became a tightly guarded diplomatic compound--to the inconvenience and discomfort of many of its regular residents.

‘It’s Ridiculous’

“I think it’s ridiculous,” said Rhoda Bergenfeld, who now lives on the same block with the leader of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. “ . . . People won’t be able to get around.”

Millions of New Yorkers may share her discomfort today when Gorbachev joins President Reagan and President-elect George Bush for a semi-summit lunch on Governors Island. Later, Gorbachev’s motorcade of 40-plus cars will move through some of the city’s most congested areas--Wall Street and Times Square--as Gorbachev and his wife, Raisa, turn tourist.

Filter in heavier-than-normal pre-Christmas traffic, and police fear it could be a prescription for monumental gridlock.

Mayor Edward I. Koch was undaunted. “He ought to make this a working vacation,” he advised. “There is a lot in this city to see. . . . Enjoy yourself, Gorby.”

The residents of East 67th Street were not particularly enjoying themselves. The specially spruced-up, white-brick Soviet Mission to the United Nations stands on that street, in the block between Third and Lexington avenues. Regular New Yorkers live on that block, too.

And while Gorbachev--who rode from Kennedy International Airport to East 67th Street in record time as police cleared the way for his motorcade--expressed “profound respect for the American people and all New Yorkers,” some beleaguered apartment dwellers grumbled at the prospect of three days of hometown summitry.

That was putting it mildly. By the time Gorbachev’s motorcade had arrived shortly before 4 p.m., police had stopped traffic and pedestrians a block away in all directions, forced at least one protester into a Korean grocery store and effectively closed down dozens of shops.

“Everything’s dead,” said Stavros Panoulias, 40, owner of the nearby European Tailor shop, shaking his head. “Today until Friday, I better close.”

“They’re killing us,” agreed Brad Silverman, 25, manager of the Sweet Victory ice cream and candy shop. “They locked the whole block up. My exterminator couldn’t get out for 40 minutes.”

Shopkeeper’s Lure

This being the home of capitalism, at least one shopkeeper was quick to seize the advantage. Outside Le Bec Fin Gourmet Foods, a large crayon sign advertised “Gorbachev’s Special--Hot Soviets.” Beirut-born counterman Michael Alshoufi said that menu offering is usually called chicken noodle soup.

“We want him to come by,” Alshoufi said. “Let him try American meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

As the motorcade crossed the final intersection of East 67th Street and Third Avenue, Raisa Gorbachev waved a gloved hand at the reporters and photographers from the darkened right rear window of the long black Zil limousine, which sported two fluttering Soviet flags.

But the Gorbachevs’ arrival at the 12-story mission was hidden behind security agents and curtains erected around the entrance. A tall man carried several bouquets of flowers presented to Raisa Gorbachev at the airport. Three Soviet flags waved above the entrance.

Nearby residents peered from balconies and windows, but police cleared photographers and television crews from rooftops, including the top of the Park East Synagogue across from the mission.

With little else to shoot, the cameras quickly crowded around Ronald V. Knapp of Huntington Beach, Calif., a pudgy, balding man who looks a lot like Gorbachev thanks to a carefully applied stain on his forehead. In case anyone should miss the point, he also gave out cards of his picture on which he had signed Gorbachev’s name.

Only two protesters were visible. One man loudly held court a block away, shouting about homelessness and police brutality in New York. Police pushed another man into the East Cheese Meat and Groceries store several minutes before the motorcade arrived. “He’s happy,” one officer said. “They’re feeding him.”

But at dinner time about 300 Armenian-Americans, demanding military protection for Soviet Armenians in their bloody dispute with the neighboring province of Azerbaijan, turned out, singing folk songs and waving flags. Sen. Frank R. Lautenberg (D-N.J.) dropped by to express his support.

Despite warnings of “Gorby gridlock,” or perhaps because of them, traffic appeared light in mid-Manhattan for much of the day.

Cabbies Not Working

“Many of the taxi drivers are not working,” said Syed Haider, a Pakistani-born cabbie. “I won’t be working tomorrow or Thursday. . . . If we don’t drive fast, we can’t make a living.”

Police worried that today could pose some of the most serious traffic problems of Gorbachev’s three-day visit, especially if the motorcade stops in the middle of Times Square during rush hour so that the Gorbachevs can shake hands with New Yorkers.

Gorbachev’s first appointment of the day is at the United Nations, where he will deliver an 11 a.m. EST address. He will return for a reception in the evening, standing on a platform in front of a huge tapestry depicting the Great Wall of China as about 600 heads of delegations, spouses and key aides shake his hand.

While Gorbachev is meeting with Reagan and Bush, his wife, Raisa, may shop at Macy’s before surveying the skyline with her husband from the observation deck of the 110-story World Trade Center. Returning to the Soviet Mission, the Gorbachevs will pass the New York Stock Exchange in Wall Street. Soviet security agents were particularly worried that crowds might clog the narrow streets of the financial area as the motorcade passes.

No unruly crowds were allowed near Gorbachev as he landed seven minutes ahead of schedule at Kennedy airport. Bundled in a thick overcoat, scarf and hat, the Soviet leader nevertheless appeared sprightly after his 12-hour flight from Moscow, hurrying down an airport stairway ahead of his wife and Foreign Minister Eduard A. Shevardnadze to shake the hands of an arrival party headed by Vernon A. Walters, the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations.

Also present were Jack F. Matlock Jr., the U.S. ambassador to the Soviet Union; Yuri V. Dubinin, the Soviet ambassador to the United States, and a host of lesser Soviet officials, many of them clad in fur coats and hats to ward off a bitter chill beneath deceptively dazzling skies.

Without fanfare or introduction, Gorbachev spoke in Russian of his satisfaction at beginning another visit to the States.

On the subject of the summit that U.S. officials have done their best to play down, Gorbachev waxed enigmatic.

“I believe that we can safely say even now that the conversations and the meeting itself will doubtless promote greater dynamism in the expansion of cooperation of our two countries,” he said, then offered a wry grin as the aide at his side wrestled with the translation. Raisa Gorbachev, clad in a warm brown fur, stood nearby.

The click-click of motor-driven cameras provided a dramatic staccato accent as the Soviet leader spoke, flanked by the Stars and Stripes and the hammer and sickle.

But that was virtually the only sound that could be heard in a ceremony striking for its silence. There was only the sparsest of applause as Gorbachev arrived and none as he abruptly departed. Even as Gorbachev climbed into the back of his limousine, the hundred or so Soviet guests remained mute, waving tiny Russian flags vigorously but silently in a pantomime of a tribute.

And despite the majesty of the moment--the massive Ilyushin jet gliding to a halt under brilliant skies, the Soviet leader descending, a multinational motorcade of Zils and Chevys and Harley Davidsons speeding toward Manhattan--the arrival lacked the verve and bright lights one might expect of a visit to the Big Apple.

Staged on a barren tarmac in a tucked-away corner of Kennedy Airport in southern Queens, this was a ceremony spectacular only to the cameras. Out of lens-view, sandbags steadied the podium and flags; and the only special touch for Gorbachev was a distant sign hastily made up by the New York Port Authority. “Welcome, General Secretary,” it said.

Even the two dozen protesters were silent, although not by choice. They were confined to a demonstration area that Gorbachev passed at high speed as his motorcade swept away. The organizers--Jewish leaders protesting Soviet emigration policies--bemoaned the fact that so few had decided to register disapproval.

The fears of massive Manhattan traffic jams even reached the airports.

As early as Tuesday morning, a taxi dispatcher at La Guardia Airport in northern Queens was greeting luggage-toting arrivals with a shake of the head.

“So you’re staying overnight? Going to see the Red premier? You gotta walk everywhere then. No driving!”

And over a toll booth on the Triborough Bridge, an electronic message board spelled out a warning.

“This Is Gridlock Week,” it said. “Use Transit If You Can.”

Times staff writers Douglas Jehl and Don Shannon also contributed to this story.