September 1, 1992

The United States announced yesterday that it had agreed in principle to buy billions of dollars' worth of bomb-grade uranium from scrapped Soviet nuclear arms in an attempt to bolster the shaky Russian economy and to reduce the risks of nuclear accidents or theft. The agreement, which would require the formal approval of both Governments, calls for highly enriched uranium from Russian nuclear arms to be diluted for sale as commercial reactor fuel. It would be the first such agreement, and, if approved, would be a major step to reducing the dangers that made the cold war so unnerving.

The Yugoslav economy, never the world's strongest, has collapsed during the civil war of recent months. But one pugnacious businessman has continued to wheel and deal at a furious pace, culminating with his bold financing of the scheduled comeback of the United States chess genius Bobby Fischer against his old rival Boris Spassky in this Adriatic resort not far from the fighting. In the remnants of Yugoslavia, now a cash-only economy where anything goes, Jezdimir Vasiljevic is known as the "mystery man." He appears to enjoy the title. "I like to be mysterious," he said, pulling hard on a cigarette and mopping the sweat from his brow, "because I like to keep people guessing." Asked about his net worth, all he will say is "millions," adding coyly that his group's sales now amount to about $3 billion a year. 'A Believer in Money' Officially, Mr. Vasiljevic is the owner of a recently established private bank-cum-trading company called Jugoskandic, whose interests include the horse racing track in Belgrade and a large shipping company. Unofficially, he has his hand in just about everything.

It was 92 degrees at noon Saturday, the fifth day after Hurricane Andrew. Ronald Bruscia maneuvered his van around mounds of brush and tangles of fallen power line. Shards of glass flew from his shattered windshield as he drove toward a friend's house that had collapsed during the storm. The friend had offered 50 gallons of gasoline in exchange for help in moving, and Mr. Bruscia was eager for the trade. In the wake of the storm, he and his girlfriend, Pamela Jones, had become eager scavengers and barterers, bound to their neighbors, relatives and even strangers by good will and mutual desperation.

TWO years ago, in the spirit of experimentation, the owner of a home in northeastern New Jersey stopped maintaining his modest lawn on synthetic fertilizers and pesticides and, like growing numbers of suburban householders, went organic instead. At the end of that first year, as described in these pages on Aug. 27, 1991, the lawn appeared lusher and healthier than it had 12 months earlier. It was also different: nature will not be denied once given free rein, and assorted broadleaf plants had jumped in to mix with the grass. Some were weeded out. Others, especially clover, pleased the eye and were allowed to flourish. The resulting appearance, typical of many organic lawns, has since been described generically as "brocade rather than velvet" by Dr. Vivienne N. Armentrout, a lawn consultant in Ann Arbor, Mich.

The people of West Harlem are about to be repaid for putting up with a sewage treatment plant in their neighborhood. Their payback, a most unusual park, will have pools and fields and a view of the Hudson River, all atop a building that processes 170 million gallons of raw sewage a day. Is this really the sort of place one wants to take in the evening air?