Every so often in New York City, events conspire to create the journalistic equivalent of a dust devil - a brief but intense vortex of shouting reporters and camera operators encircling a person in the news.
Yesterday, all the ingredients were there: heat from the West Side stadium drama, anticipation of a crucial, and twice-delayed, vote next week, and growing intrigue surrounding the intentions of Assembly Speaker Sheldon Silver. Nature soon took its course, spawning a news media microburst that quickly engulfed Mr. Silver and left him begging for help as he tried to flee a swarm of reporters.
The day began calmly enough. Mayor Michael R. Bloomberg called a news conference at a school auditorium on Greenwich Street to announce the latest economic development boost for Lower Manhattan that seemed intended to please Mr. Silver. The Assembly speaker has complained in recent weeks about what he sees as too much emphasis on the Jets stadium, rather than on redevelopment in his legislative district, which includes the World Trade Center site.
Mr. Bloomberg's proposal for a stadium hangs in the balance, and Mr. Silver has it in his power to tip the scales. He has one of three votes on a panel that is set to vote next week on $300 million in state financing for the stadium. Mr. Silver has not said how he intends to vote.
Yesterday, the mayor praised the speaker and his support of the Greenwich Street project, a residential and retail development with a 30-story tower, a community center and a school annex. After the presentation and speeches, Mr. Bloomberg said there would be a brief break before opening the floor to questions.
With people milling about, the mayor and the speaker could be seen behind the lectern engaged in what appeared to be an intense one-on-one chat. Curiosity aroused, reporters began drifting toward the stage.
It soon became apparent that Mr. Silver did not intend to stay for the question-and-answer session. The crowd of reporters grew. Television camera lights switched on. School officials, sensing the gathering storm, shooed away the few remaining children. Mr. Bloomberg stepped to the lectern, looking perplexed as most of the journalists began trailing Mr. Silver down the stage steps.
"Uh, the press conference is over here," the mayor said, to no avail.
As Mr. Silver tried to leave, the first questions began falling on him like hailstones. Was he any closer to deciding how to vote on the stadium?
"No," he said, trying to move away, "I'm not further, not closer."
"Where are you going?" a reporter asked.
"I'm going to meet the chairman of Goldman Sachs," was the reply.
The noisy swarm of bodies, with Mr. Silver at its center, moved slowly down a hallway, carrying the speaker past a stairwell door where several nervous-looking aides stood waiting to usher him out. A desperate aide, unable to push his way through the crowd, yelled above the din: "Excuse me, folks, please! Speaker Silver, you have to come this way sir!"
Mr. Silver paused, his back against the wall, and began pleading to be allowed out, "Can I go?"
Reporter: "The governor's saying the stadium is being held up."
Aide: "Can we create a space here please?"
Mr. Silver: "Can I, can I?"
Aide: "We have to go this way."
"Can I just tell you?" Mr. Silver said, quieting the crowd. "I'm meeting with the chairman of Goldman Sachs to make another pitch to get him to come here, downtown Manhattan. I do not want to be late. It is very important to this community that Goldman Sachs reconsider and come back to downtown. That's what I'm focused on, downtown. So I'm begging your indulgence to allow me to do that."
As the storm dissipated, and Mr. Silver made his way to the exit, one last question landed on him with a splat, "Mr. Speaker, could we beg you for one quick comment about the stadium?"