September 15, 1993

And now for the hard part. The importance of Monday's handshake between Yasir Arafat, the P.L.O. chairman, and Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin of Israel is that with one gesture it transformed the problem between them from an ideological struggle over who is the rightful owner of historic Palestine into a practical one over how to share the same living space.

When aerospace contractors from across the globe gather in Phoenix on Thursday to begin work on one of the most ambitious space programs of the decade -- Motorola Inc.'s $3 billion Iridium project -- the biggest force in the space industry will not be there. NASA, whose checkbook for more than three decades has kept many American space contractors in business, has not been invited. Motorola conceives Iridium as a network of 66 low-orbit satellites that by the end of the decade is to provide wireless telephone service anywhere on earth. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration is not participating because the project is being financed by private industry -- a fact that many experts see as a fundamental shift in the country's approach to space. Long the nation's biggest public works project, the space program is rapidly becoming a commerical affair. Where the Profits Are Some space businesses, like building and operating the commercial communications satellites used for telephone calls and television programs, have been making money for more than a decade. A newer business, the private launching of satellites and space-based geographic sensing systems, may soon become modestly profitable for companies like McDonnell Douglas and General Dynamics.

Defying state authorities, the Suffolk County Legislature unanimously approved a plan today to fingerprint welfare recipients to combat fraud. Supporters said the system could eventually save the county millions of dollars a year in fraudulent claims.

On the first morning of the peace between Israel and the P.L.O., 19-year-old Bahaa al-Din al-Najr rose early for dawn prayers in this fetid refugee quarter beside the Mediterranean. He bathed, shaved his head, shook hands with his friends and went to pray again at the Majd Abbas, a large mosque in Gaza City. Then he tried to blow up the central police station.

IT is the day after Labor Day, and the old white house with the black shutters on Glover Street is asleep in the warm September sun. Even rudely repeated bangings on the front door cannot shake the quietude. Surreptitious peeks through the front parlor windows finally make it quite clear that no one is home. Then Betty Friedan arrives. But hardly with the frenzy and the fanfare that greeted her arrival at our first interview 23 years ago. On that day, surrounded by cheering women warriors in a Des Plaines, Ill., hotel, she sounded the call to arms for a general strike by women to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the 19th Amendment, which gave women the vote. Now, on this sleepy summer day, she simply lurches into the driveway in a fusty old maroon Dodge.