TWENTY-FIVE

Through the marvels of modern telecommunications, the newspapers were able to assemble their Thursday morning editions, though newsstand deliveries ran behind schedule. The Times's coverage began with a restrained lead:

Every dog must have his day, and approximately 200 of them hadtheirs yesterday, causing a traffic jam the Police Department calledthe worst in New York's history.

Only deep in the story was Eldon's future speculated about:

While the purpose of the Animal Liberation Army rally was torouse support to force Mayor Eldon Hoagland to resign, it was notclear that this objective was advanced. Most political leaders contacted expressed anger at the ALA's disruptive tactics and offeredvirtually no support for the call for Hoagland's resignation. Manymore refused to comment or made themselves unavailable, including Artemis Payne, the public advocate, who would step into themayor's shoes if he left office.

Governor Randilynn Foote, who witnessed the demonstrationfrom the Governor's Rooms at City Hall, offered only a terse "Nocomment" when she left the building in late afternoon, accompanied by her Labrador, Albert.

The Times also ran an informative sidebar listing previous noteworthy events in City Hall Park, including the first reading of the Declaration of Independence to George Washington and his troops, the antislavery riots, protests by supporters of Sacco and Vanzetti and a more recent police demonstration, which had turned ugly.

The Post-News's coverage was under the headline

WAMBLI REMEMBEREDAND HOW!

—————

Mayor's Future in Doubt

—————

Resignation was right up front in The Post-News story:

The entire metropolitan region was thrown into chaos yesterdayas more than 100,000 protestors in downtown Manhattan demanded the resignation of Mayor Eldon Hoagland for his conductin the brutal slaying of the puppy Wambli last August.

The marchers, from an eclectic assortment of animal rights andcivic groups, including the Patrolmen's Benevolent Association andthe Catholic St. Sebastian Society, united in a persistent chorus,which at times verged on the ugly, of "Resign! Resign!" and later aridiculing "Arf! Arf! Arf!"

Led by members of the Animal Liberation Army, many in thecrowd, bringing dogs along to honor the slain Wambli, let them looseon the Brooklyn Bridge as the rally came to an end.The resulting tie-up on the bridge, at the beginning of the rush hour, soon escalated toall the East River approaches to and from Manhattan. Police, driversand spectators agreed that it was the worst tie-up in memory or, asone onlooker put it,"since the invention of the automobile."

The disruptions continued well into the evening and were severeenough that, according to the White House, the president calledMayor Hoagland to offer assistance by federal troops.

It was unclear late last night what effect the rally and the immobilization of the city would have on the future of Mayor Hoagland.Could he ride out the crisis?

Ralph Bernardo, head of the Animal Liberation Army, interviewed on television, expressed satisfaction at the day's unrulyevents and promised that his group would lead a demonstrationevery Wednesday until the mayor resigns.

While politicians were reluctant to speculate on Hoagland's future, the man in the street was not.

"We've got to get back to normalcy," said Ollie Gilpey, 46, anauto parts salesman from Bayside, Queens, "and we can't do it whilethis dog thing hangs over us. Hoagland should get out so we can getback to business."

Mona Finca, 28, an executive assistant in Manhattan, agreed."It's awful about that dog. Hoagland is a creep who has no businessstaying in office after what happened."

The other respondents in the newspaper's cross-section survey agreed, except for one elderly woman who commented noncommittally that the controversy was "the dizziest thing that has happened in New York since the Collyer brothers."

The tabloid's editorial called on Hoagland to quit "in the interest of domestic tranquillity."

. . .

Following Governor Foote's orders, Sheila Baine had gone to the law books first thing in the morning after the rally. Both she and Governor Foote were working at the uptown executive office—it was thought politic to stay away from City Hall for the day.

Baine's research in the City Charter confirmed that the public advocate was first in the line of succession. But she was amazed by something else that she found, both in the charter and the New York State Public Officers Law. She frankly could not believe what she read, so she checked and rechecked her discovery.

Satisfied, she went next door to confer with the governor and Raifeartaigh.

"What's the good word, sister?" the governor asked, feet propped on an open drawer of her desk and sipping a diet soda. Then she took a closer look at her political assistant.

"Are you all right? You look like something the cat dragged in. Or maybe a dog." She guffawed at her own crack as Raifeartaigh winced.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay. But I've found out something you have to know about."

"Spit it out, baby."

"Well, you were right that Artemis Payne would succeed Mayor Hoagland if he left office. He takes over whenever the mayor cannot act. But there is another applicable law that's pretty incredible."

"Like what?"

Baine nervously turned to the law books she had brought with her. "Section nine of the City Charter says, quote, The mayor may be removed from office by the governor upon charges and after service upon him of a copy of the charges and an opportunity to be heard in his defense. Pending the preparation and disposition of charges, the governor may suspend the mayor for a period not exceeding thirty days, close quote."

"Hell and damnation!" the governor yelped.

"Whew!" Raifeartaigh added.

"That's not all, ma'am. Section thirty-three of the State Public Officers Law says that, quote, The chief executive officer of every city—I'm skipping here—may be removed by the governor after giving such officer a copy of the charges against him and an opportunity to be heard in his defense, close quote."