A city bracing for the what-ifs

And now, on to New York.

Last week, a bomb scare emptied subways for 200 blocks, and if what happened afterward on the M5 bus is any indication, New Yorkers are plenty edgy that the upcoming Republican National Convention is painting a wounded city -- already a terrorist target -- an even brighter red.

It’s not that the locals can’t handle 50,000 Republicans flooding this Democratic city. Certainly, New Yorkers welcome outsiders, and certainly, they are inured to the prospect of more mayhem. In a city where there are 600 demonstrations a year, could anything top the gridlock that occurs on a Sunday in June when the Israeli Day Parade, angry but orderly Palestinian protesters and a five-borough bike marathon all converge in Midtown?

“We’re accustomed to keeping a lot of balls in the air at the same time,” said Deputy Police Commissioner Paul J. Browne, describing the potential for chaos in a week that the GOP, the Yankees, the Mets and the U.S. Open will all be in town.

But in post-Sept. 11 New York, there are balls in the air, and then there are trigger events that raise a collective anxiety that only New Yorkers who were here three years ago can relate to. Bomb scares in the subway can do it. A car fire in the Lincoln Tunnel has done it -- several times, in fact. And Sunday brought word from Washington that the Citicorp building and the New York Stock Exchange are among sites the government believes have been targeted for possible terrorist attacks.

Even a pretty blue sky resonates the wrong way with some people because it recalls a sky so blue that day in September.

Sometimes, it’s as if we are all suffering from a bad case of acid reflux, where the tiniest event can bring up the most whelming worries. It’s one thing to live in fear of what could happen; it’s another to live in fear of what did happen. So even before Sunday’s news, with the Democrats in Boston last week reminding New Yorkers of the political show coming their way, and with law enforcement leaking more news about terrorist chatter indicating that the GOP convention is a target, the fear factor here had risen dramatically.

After Blaine Elise, a cookbook editor, had struggled onto that crowded M5 bus and started yammering about how “it was going to be just like this when the Republicans get here,” several of her fellow travelers clearly experienced an acidic burn in their chests. You could tell by their grimaces.

“I have to be here; there’s no escaping to the Hamptons or the Jersey shore for this girl,” said Elise, 60. “I have too many deadlines. But I can’t go through this again -- delays, bomb threats, nonsense, bag checks, the whole riot gear thing again in Midtown.”

A youngish woman, in a silvery skirt and black flip-flops, who said she was a private banker, chimed in eagerly: “Yeah, I know, I have to work too, but there’s no way I’m going into the subways. I’m going to bike to Midtown. Have you been reading what they’re planning?”

New York City police have been talking openly about their twin mission of allowing law-abiding protesters -- the city is expecting more than 250,000 -- to have their civic say and still keeping the city safe. At the same time they’re negotiating the minutiae -- about where the protest groups can and can’t be -- the police, the Secret Service, the FBI and a whole alphabet of agencies are planning for the worst.

Officials expect they’ll have to contend with a particularly twisted strategy by “anarchists” -- they always call them that to differentiate them from garden-variety activists -- who are bent on foiling security measures, for example, by throwing pellets at bomb-sniffing dogs, confusing them about explosives that aren’t there. The NYPD is also worried about a plot by “anarchists” to overwhelm city emergency rooms by faking illness; a team of physicians has been hired to help Fire Department medics make evaluations on the scene.

“This is a city where people freak out and call 911 if they see a plane flying too low over Midtown,” said Browne. “We can’t afford to have any real violence.”

Mark Fisher, an electrician who lives in the Bronx with his nurse wife and three teenage sons, also hopped that M5 after the 1,2, 3, and 9 subway lines were delayed because of a “suspicious package.” He was more sympathetic of the tough talk by police about heightened security during the convention than he would have been in “the old days,” he said.

“I’m a real ‘60s kinda guy, but it’s one thing to try pull off this disruption-for-disruption’s sake stuff in Seattle or Boston, but it’s a whole other ball of wax in New York,” said Fisher, who helped in the recovery in the weeks after the Sept. 11 attacks.

Which begs the question: Why couldn’t the Republicans have chosen, say, Denver for their convention? Reviving the imagery of a rookie American president standing amid the rubble of the World Trade Center and shoring up the firefighters and police at the scene is likely to be a boon for George Bush’s reelection effort. But that imagery and the threat his presence brings to New York is also taking a toll on the psyche of its residents.

Fisher happened to be on his way to a job at Madison Square Garden, where the Republicans will convene from Aug. 30 through Sept. 2. Later, he admitted it had only just dawned on him -- after he’d overheard the “foxy girl in the skirt” talking to “the chick who can’t go to the Hamptons” -- that it was the Republican convention he was working on at the Garden. “Funny thing is, I have no interest in politics anymore, but now you mention it, that explains why the temperature is rising down at Penn Station.”

Last week, the Long Island Rail Road started passing out brochures to its customers explaining which exits in Penn Station, the nation’s busiest commuter train terminal, would be closed during the convention. Although there will be no reduction in services, officials of all the transportation systems are encouraging the 2 million commuters who can’t vacation the week before Labor Day to take different routes. Officials are also warning of extra precautions. Trains will be searched, and their bathrooms will be bolted shut; subways to Manhattan from the other boroughs will all be loaded with cops; packages will be screened before they’re delivered to office towers.

A city official with longevity marveled at the difference between the planning 12 years ago for the Democratic convention here and what is being done for the Republicans in 2004. Party affiliation is the least of it. Security has been the main focus this time, the official said. “That’s all anyone wants to talk about.”

The California delegation has been so concerned about security that it has hired a private New York firm for the week to help its party of 1,200 negotiate the city and, frankly, the convention security.

“If there’s traffic, if there are protesters in the way, these security guys know how to get around,” said delegation spokeswoman Elizabeth Blackney. “They know things we can’t possibly understand, like that ‘Bway’ is Broadway, that even-numbered streets go east. They know how to make the experience organic for us Californians.”

New York City police seem almost sanguine about routine problems such as traffic and planned protests. Deputy Commissioner Browne insists that police have learned a thing or two since the confrontations at Columbia University during the Vietnam War and after the assassination of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. and during blackouts that could have ignited riots but didn’t in recent years because of the way police reacted.

“Police departments realize they don’t have to engage all the time,” he said. “If people want to lie down in traffic, they’re going to tell us ahead of time ... We’re prepared for anything.”

But with chat rooms again advising mothers to stock up on potassium iodide to protect their children’s thyroids from radiation and websites rerunning lists of supplies that should be packed in “go bags,” anticipation of this political event is going down like a spicy meal at bedtime.”Boy, if only I could go the Hamptons,” muttered Elise, the cookbook editor, as she carefully made her way down the bus steps at her stop at 5th Avenue and 33rd Street. Fisher, the electrician, rolled his eyes as he waited behind her and whispered: “God help the delegate or protester who gets in her way.”