(See Cover)
In a sandstone house on Manhattan's upper East Side, the door of a third-floor bedroom opened softly at 7:30 a.m. one day last week. Following a routine of many years' standing, a handsome, grey-haired man, clad in a maroon and navy dressing gown, reached into the hall to pick up the newspaper. Then Arthur Hays Sulzberger hopped back into bed to read his New York Times.
He read it in an oddly methodical way. First he tore off Page One and the editorial page of the bulky newspaper. The moment he had laid...
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