The Spectacle

The curtain across the world stage rustled and billowed as the cast of characters began to take their places for the most extraordinary political spectacle of modern times. To New York and the United Nations by slow boat came Nikita Khrushchev, with his gallery of satellite rogues trotting at his heels. One by one the other national leaders, of various hues of dependence and independence--Egypt's Nasser, Yugoslavia's Tito, Indonesia's Sukarno, Cuba's Castro, Ghana's Nkrumah --were due to arrive, all drawn, as was their right, to the General Assembly session where every member has an equal voice.

The U.S., still smarting from Khrushchev's insults to President Eisenhower and the U-2 furor, was in no mood to play jovial host to all comers. And though officialdom had clear distinctions in mind, it was not clear whether Manhattan passers-by would. Castro and his cronies (who were hard put to find a hotel willing to put them up), were told bluntly by the State Department to leave their accustomed shooting irons at home. Khrushchev and some of his puppets were denied freedom of movement beyond Manhattan (except, perhaps, for a trip to the U.S.S.R.'s estate at Glen Cove, Long Island). The reason, explained the State Department, was that security precautions could not be guaranteed in the light of the bitterness toward Khrushchev which had grown so monumental since his first visit. There was bound to be a dispute over the travel barrier ("Nonsense, just nonsense," Eleanor Roosevelt called it), as Khrushchev himself was bound to make propaganda hay out of it.

Security & Substance. The possibility of enthusiastic inhospitality to Khrushchev brought real problems. Longshoremen promised that they would not unload Baltika, threatened to hire boats to follow the Russian liner into port with heckles cracking the air. The U.N. security section fattened its number from 200 to 300, banned-all but official visitors from the premises during the General Assembly sessions. The U.S. military and State Department moved intelligence and security details into Manhattan.

New York City's Police Commissioner Stephen Kennedy ordered a cot set up in his office in anticipation of a heavy week, canceled all holidays for his cops, placed his 24,000-man force on a 60-hour work week, alerted inspectors for 24-hour-a-day duty, assigned 8,000 men just to guard the visitors. Picketing would be permitted, he said, though not with placards held with sticks that might be wielded as weapons. All "movable objects" that might be used for ammunition (e.g., trash receptacles) were removed from streets on which the visitors might ride. All but security craft were banned from the immediate vicinity of Baltika's assigned berth on the East River, and some streets close by were closed to regular traffic.

Braced for Politicking. And what of the real substance of Khrushchev's visit, the bag of tricks that he had ready to dump on the U.N. floor? So certain were many Americans that he would be dreadfully effective--if not in the U.S.. certainly abroad--that they besieged the press and television networks with letters urging only minimum coverage of Khrushchev, so as to vitiate the effect of his words on the listening world. Manhattan's Overseas Press Club was roundly abused by some for inviting Khrushchev to a press conference. Both presidential candidates sensed the effect that the mischievous intrusion might make on the presidential campaign--and braced for Khrushchev's crude politicking.

President Eisenhower, making what was. billed as his farewell address to the General Assembly, prepared a speech that would try to anticipate Khrushchev's worst, would set forth the position of peaceful U.S. intentions--food for peace, nuclear inspection, etc. Ike would probably come and go without a nod to Khrushchev, unless Khrushchev sought a meeting. And then, presumably the following day Khrushchev would have his say.

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