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Sparks, Sailors, AndThe Band Played OnBY LIZ KOCHVendors took up positions on Columbia Street with coolers full of beer and boxes of liberty memorabilia early in the afternoon of July 3. But for the rest of the day, they craned their necks and peered down the sunny street in search of the predicted throng of humanity. The pickings were slim with President Reagan%u2019s lighting of the Statue of Liberty only hours away, but each lone pedestrian that wandered by was enthusiastically recruited as a possible big spender. The best available throng however was the local police clustered on each corner near the Pier 8 viewing spot.%u201cToday won%u2019t be a bigseller,%u201d mused a vendor at the comer of DeGraw and Columbia Streets. %u201cEverybody is home watching television. If you%u2019re standing outside, you're just going to see the light go on at the statue. That%u2019s not much,%u2019 he says, analyzing the market possibilities. %u201cA couple of people have come out to look at the war boats and see the sunset, but not many,%u201d he says.The German destroyer Braunschweig, having crossed the Atlantic Ocean in four days, was docked at the pier and sailors in crisp white uniforms strode off the boat, making a beeline for Columbia Street where they encountered the local police patiently sitting in their scooters and a cluster of police here and there speaking amiably with one another, with cameras glued in one hand and subway maps in the other, the sailors solicited directions to Manhattan as well as photographs of a unique type: sailor Schmidt, leaning casually on a scooter with a policeman%u2019s head in the window, one policeman flanked by two grinning sailors and a policeman and sailor poring over a map. The policeman points toward Manhattan, the sailor smiles broadly and the picture is snapped.The sightseeing continues on the playground across the street, a furious game of basketball is underway, and with no verbal communication, the sailors stream over shaking their heads at a man hawking beer and cling to the fence to watch and fuss again with their cameras.%u201cGermans, aren%u2019t they?%u201d the been vendor asks. %u201cI thought they drink beer over there.%u201dFEW PEOPLE AT PIER 8Few people turned out that night at Pier 8, where a view to the Statue of Liberty was not to be had, but even on the Promenade where the still unlit Statue was in full view the crowd was surprisingly thin. Vendors there, however, were doing much better and Montague Street was also boasting a brisk business.People queued up to buy film for their cameras and Statue of Liberty green crowns were a big hit, with entire families donning the crowns. liberty buttons, posters, shirts, necklaces, rings, stickers, hats, sunglasses and drinking glasses were also popular commodities that night, joined appropriately by an assortment of vendors of ethnic foods. On Montague Street, that window of opportunity so oft evoked over the weekend, was wide open.Boats on glimmering water, a sudden brilliant light illuminating the Statue crooning of Frank Sinatra and Elie Wiesel receiving an award as a special immigrant were all broadcast on television that night, but anyone situated on an appropriate roof could drink their fill of the lighted Liberty and wait for the fireworks. True enough, it may have seemed most people in Brooklyn opted for the television, or maybe even the Mets game (they won), but on the rooftops, those who could be seen up and down my perch on Carroll Street waited, patiently shivering, for the celebratory fireworks. Moments before, the call went out across the adjacent roofs that the fireworks were about to begin, a gasp rippled across the scene as the Statue of Liberty was once again shrouded in darkness.PUSHED WRONG BUTTON%u201cReagan pushed the wrong button!%u201d one woman shrieked. %u201cShe%u2019s gone. He blew her up,%u201d another followed, joined by giggles from the roof across the street. %u201cNow he%u2019s done it,%u201d a man chimed in, adding, after a moment: %u201cGood going, Ronnie.%u201dBig cheers followed the jokes, however, as explosions ot light and coior iii up the Statue, standing alone With her arm held high, and shouts of %u201cThere she is!%u201d erupted from the dark roofs. For five minutes then,CELEBRA TING THE S T A TUE(Phoenlx/A rm strong Photo)(P hoenlx/G arrlty Photo)(P hoem x/K oslosky Photo)S o t o )(P hoenlx/P earson Isilence took over until the last burst of color faded in the night, and was followed by scattered applause.It was fireworks and the tall ships that grabbed the attention in Brooklyn on Liberty Weekend, but the expected crowds did not materialize for the Operation Sail parade at Pier 8 nor at the Promenade where a bumper crowd was awaited.On a hot sunny Friday, a small crowd of viewers dotted Columbia Street and strolled leisurely down the blocked off road keeping one astute eye directed at the waters for the appearance of the larger masted ships to sail past. A few tripods were erected early on in the day to capture the visual fare later on, and cameras and liberty souvenirs continued on as an overarching theme amidst the low key viewing and general lounging about in the sun. But as the afternoon came gradually to a close, the local fireworks in the sidestreets began firing off in spurts and more police took up their positions on street comers, paces quickened and limos headed for private parties.Furman Street remained strictly blocked off to both cars and pedestrians who could not show a pass to the private parties that began late in the afternoon.ESMERALDA OFF LIMITSOver at Pier 2, the Fund for the Borough of Brooklyn threw its $250 per plate American Jubilee Party and surrounded by the docked tall ships from Argentina, Italy and Norway, it was clear where the fascination rested, not in the food or the band.Sailors leaned over the rails of the ships, clambered around on the masts and conversed as best they could with partygoers standing on the pier; they, in exchange, snapped photos of the elegant structures and waved and smiled up at thoseon deck. Une pair of policemen who blocked the crowd from wandering over the Esmeralda, the Chilean tall ship, offered the repeated explanation that the ship was off limits because of the controversy of its history as a torture ship. The Argentines, on the other hand, sporadically opened their ship to anyone with persistence, and people flocked on deck to chat with the sailors and tour the wooden ship while the officers of the ship descended to join in the dinner, where they continued to attract rapt interest. And more than one woman casually mentioned that night that she %u201cliked%u201d sailors. It was an allaround friendly atmosphere.For the fireworks display that night, the ship was opened again to the flocks with cameras and Argentine sailors with video cameras, side by side with Americans plus camera religiously documented the whole splendor, as fireworks on the East River erupted from behind the Manhattan skyline like a colorful sunrise and the fireworks reflected in the glass buildings and in the water.Minor hysteria reigned as photographers anxiously focused and braced their cameras on the nearest stable object, be it heads, shoulders or the ships%u2019 railing. Radios were tuned to the accompanying music of the extravaganza and those with Walkmen listened closely to their headphones. While speakers blared an assortment of ethnic music, video cameras rolled and shutters clicked enthusiastically.THE BAND PLAYED ONAfter the fireworks display ended to a round of applause, the evening on Pier 2 was essentially over, with dessert served and a band playing for a small but avid group of dancers. This time sailors joined file parly while an Uncle Sam spun around the room on a unicycle. A radio broadcaster announced that Americans had never witnessed such a spectacle before and the band leader asked the party-goers to attend the next celebration in 100 years.The festivities the next day brought more of the expected crowds out as people streamed down Furman Street, once again cameras in hand, to visit the opened tallships and the war ships. The two German naval boats docked at Pier 8 drew lines waiting to board the boat and once on the boat lines resumed as sailors hawked Germ an beer steins and hats and T-shirts with name of the boat, %u201cDeutschland,%u201d imprinted. The Amerigo Vespucci, docked at Pier 2, drew a minor mob while the Argentine Iibertad and the Norwegian Christian Radich gathered a small crowdThe weekend had passed with little of the mobs anticipated. Perhaps the more raucous scenes were those that took place on the streets, late on the night of the Fourth, as firecrackers littered the streets of Carroll Gardens (versus relative quiet in Brooklyn Heights and Cobble Hill). One policeman, directing traffic at the intersection of Carroll Street and Columbia Street, stood as if in a war-ravaged country. Pointing the traffic down Columbia Street, he stood nonplussed as bottle rockets flew over his head and a particularly wild outburst of fireworks, brought a drift of smoke down upon him. He disappeared for several seconds before surfacing again, still pointing down the street.The View From InFront O f A New YorkCity Television SetBY ROBTAYLORCrowds, noise and long lines are problems that New Yorkers also accept when they decide to celebrate the Fourth of July in the city. Ten years ago, during the Bicentennial celebrations, I came to New York as a visitor anticipating an historic extravaganza that is now remembered as a combination of different hassles.While I still recall the thrills of Operation Sail and the small street festivals held duringContinued on Following PageJuly 10,1986 , TH E P H O E N IX , P ag * 7