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CELEBRA TING THE S T A TUEMinor hysteria reigned as photographers anxiously focused and bracedtheir cameras on the nearest stable object be it heads, shoulders or the ships %u2019railing. Radios were tuned to the accompanying music of the extravaganzaand while speakers blared an assortment of ethnic music, video camerasrolled and shutters clicked enthusiastically as the fireworks exploded.(P hoenix/Koslosky Pholo)(P hoenix/B arber Photo)C ontinued From Preceding Pagethe nation%u2019s 200th birthday party, the memories did not instill any yearning to get caught up in the crowds during this year%u2019s celebration.Snmp nponlp nailed me a %u201chumbug.%u201d but I was quite comfortable with the thought of watching the histroic moments in the surroundings of an apartment-house living room, complete with two color television sets. With no crowds, people, loudspeakers or agonizing waits, I settled down with a sixpack, takeout ribs and a pound of potato salad for my own, more personal, party.I must admit that the independence celebration I had planned was interrupted by the appearance of some close friends who tried to coax me from my hiding place to participate more publicly. I reluctantly agreed to take the elevator to the observation deck of the Empire State Building %u2014 it was as close to Battery Park as I was then willing to go %u2014 and watch the lighting of the Statue of Liberty%u2019s torch.From there, I caught a glimpse of a spirited city that was painting itself in red, white and blue lights in anticipation of the next day%u2019s activities. The statue, while far away, was still luring as the torch was lit. I felt a little guilty for not wanting to be closer, but was satisfied that I had witnessed the historic moment.The next morning, I immediately turned the televisions on and caught the festivities as broadcast on two different stations. The remote-control televisions have made the chore of scanning the various channels easier, so I was able to miss most of the commercial breaks that interrupted the coverage.From the comforts of my living room, I was able to have an insider%u2019s view of President Reagan%u2019s Fourth of July schedule. The media hovered around the President and Mrs.Reagan for nearly two hours as they reviewed the naval vessels that had assembled in the harbor. Most people in New York probably did not get to see Mrs. Reagan sit down, cross her arm s as if she were bored | by the whole event. For his part, the President appeared to be happier than I had ever seen him. The television commentators persistently said that this was the type ofevent he really enjoyed. His expressions and personal interest seemed to indicate it was true.Coverage of the sail of tall ships up the Hudson River was complicated by the fact that the major networks had as many as 75 television cameras stationed throughout the city. Throughout the parade, the television reporters interrupted the procession with small anecdotes, interviews and personal commentaries on American citizenship. I found myself dumbfounded as to what the sailing order of the ships was, though I was inn undated with information about each ship%u2019s hisotry. Coverage of the tall ships again focused on the President%u2019s schedule, making it possible for me to be one of the privileged few who heard Andy Williams croon The Star Spangled Banner without having to pay.But with the reports of crowds having a good time, I began to feel as if I were missing something. The broadcasts said that the tireworks spectacle would be the largest in America%u2019s history, so when my friends called again to ask me to join them at Battery Park, I felt obligated not to miss the event.From the minute I boarded the crowded subway train, I was afraid I would regret the decision. I arrived at Battery Park, met my friends, and waded through the crowds to our chosen vantage point. There, pinned against a fence, I waited two hours for the historic bursts. Once the rockets began to explode, however. I was haDDV to be there.Of course the crowd was pushy, and a little l too boisterous for my taste, but the dark sky that was being lit up with rapid bursts of color made me feel like a participant in the nation%u2019s birthday and not an observer.Heights Says: D on%u2019t Fence Us OutBY ARTHUR XROEBERThe people at the police barrier on Montague and Henrv Streets Friday night the Fourth of July were not happy.%u201cI%u2019ve lived here for 15 years. What do you mean I can%u2019t go through?%u201d demanded an angry young woman of a brusque police officer on horseback.%u201cI%u2019m sorry,%u201d the one on horseback replied. %u201cUnless you can prove you live here, I can%u2019t let you through.%u201dIt was, surely, a scene out of South Africa or the Soviet Union, not the United States %u2014 and particularly not the U.S. on this day of all days, the heart of %u201cLiberty Weekend,%u201d or what used to be called, in the quaint jargon of Hip la s t p p n tiirv %u201c Independ ence D a v .%u201dFor interlopers like me, who had just come to the Heights for the evening in hopes of catching the 10-ton fireworks extravaganza over the harbor from the City%u2019s best vantagepoint, the Brooklyn Heights Esplanade. The blocking-off of the Heights west of Henrv Street was no more than an annoyance. We were compelled to watch from Pier 8 off Cobble Hill, our view partly obstructed by low-slung warehouses, but we missed little of the pyrotechnics.But imagine ourself a HaDDV Heightser who went out to a holiday dinner with friends, nothing in your pocket but our housekeys and a few hundred dollars to cover the tab at Lisanne or the Four Seasons, or perhaps (more sensibly) your American Express Gold Card. No Drivers%u2019 license, no telephone or Con Ed bill from the last three months %u2014 nothing, in short, to prove your residence in the state of New York, much less in Brooklyn Heights.Then, returning to the Heights at 9 o%u2019clock or so to get a sensational view of the fireworks from the balcony of your ColumbiaHeights brownstone, you are confronted by blue police barriers, helmeted representatives of New York%u2019s finest on horseback, guarantors of liberty on the streets, who demand proof of your identity and address before they will let you back to your house.You would be more than annoyed. You would likely be furious %u2014 and there were quite a few furious people at those barriers.They were tough, those cops %u2014 I didn%u2019t see anyone allowed Dast the barriers without proper identification. Although as a rule, my sympathy with Heights denizens is limited, and although my impoverished soul was cneered by the thought that I was sharing the heat and dust of Pier 8 with misguided Yuppies who were too ignorant to carry their passports when they went out to take the evening air %u2014 still, the scene sounded a discordant note in the day%u2019s sell-conscious symphony of liberty that had been as slickly orchestrated as any piece of Muzak.The Hollwood producers who wrote that score didn%u2019t want to include the rabble. They wanted the rabble at home, glued to their magnavoxes. Many Heights people had already expressed the view that they didn%u2019t want the rabb.e roaming their quiet streetsLady Liberty%u2019sBY DOROTHY WHITMOREJuly 4 was a day unlike any other. For weeks before, the media had hyped %u201cLady liberty%u2019s Birthday%u201d to monumental proportions, and finally, here it was! And on one of those singular days in New York of perfect weather %u2014 low humidity, cobalt blue skies with temperatures in the 70%u2019s. And an off-shore breeze to make a sailor%u2019s heart prouu.It was a day that restored the Port of New York to its greatness as the harbor thronged with ships as far as the eye could see.this night either. And so the streets were closed off, and you had policemen on horseback asking people to show what right they had to walk past the barriers.There%u2019s a great deal to be said for the rabble, on whose consent (tacit or otherwise) the livelihood of any polity depends. Ask Andrew Jackson, or Corazon Aquino, or even Pieter Botha in a few years. They will tell you to heed the rabble.What makes America, and particularly New York, tolerable, is that the rabble is occasionally encouraged to assemble and do what it feels like, as long as nobody gets hurt. There is wisdom here, and I think it differs from the cowardly wisdom of the Roman patricians who kept the plebs in line with plentiful bread and regular circuses.S /) yas sorry %u2014 just a little, little bit sorry %u2014 toLee those streets blocked off last Friday night. J* /7ould have been fun to see those Heights byways, usually so crypt-like after dark, thronged with the vulgar Mob, with '.e~p%u00a3uzzling longshoremen, with young artists about to be kicked out of the borough by real estate speculators, with those absurd green foam-rubber Liberty crowns, with sparklers and raucous laughter, with liberty, with life.Ship Comes InFor 37 year-old Steve Kay, a native Brooklynite, %u201cthe ships were the best.%u201d Kay, who arose at 5am to be at the Battery by 6:30 was elated by the convoy of warships and training vessels from many nations, including Denmark and Italy. %u201cI loved the warships, but the ships under sail were the most spectacular.%u201d For him, the %u201cmost incredible sight was the Iowa sailing abreast ui Lilt: Sialut.\While the rest of the day average New Yorkers were picnicking, bicycling andC ontinuedPage 8, THE P H O EN IX, July 10,1986