September 16, 1994

It looked like an ordinary New York pizza parlor, its Formica tables crowded at lunch yesterday with midtown office workers and a long line of customers snaking along a counter in front of the ovens. But Federal authorities said that the Famous Original Ray's Pizza on Third Avenue near 43d Street was actually the headquarters for a major drug ring. An d in a new variation for the ever-changing international drug trade, the authorities said, the pizzeria gang didn't just import cocaine from Colombia to feed New York City's big appetite for drugs. It also used New York as a transit point to deliver drugs to three longstanding organized crime groups in Italy, where cocaine sells for three times what it costs in New York.

Depending on one's perspective, Norman Cohen is either an avenging angel who has rescued hapless companies from disaster-plagued computers or he is a high-technology ambulance chaser. What is not disputed is that Mr. Cohen, 49, a computer consultant who works out of a spacious farm home near Atlanta, has become a recurring nightmare for the AT&T Corporation's computer subsidiary, the former NCR Corporation. Partly as a result of his efforts, NCR and AT&T have paid millions of dollars in customer claims in the last decade, and new cases are still piling up.

As State Senator George E. Pataki, the Republican candidate for governor, swung across the state today carrying a message of change, Democrats allied with Gov. Mario M. Cuomo dogged him at every turn, questioning his legislative record and his claim that he is a reformer. In Buffalo, Rochester and Binghamton, Mr. Pataki met with reporters to discuss his support for term limits, citizen initiatives and proposals to make government more open. But he encountered loosely coordinated groups of Cuomo supporters who were calling themselves "truth squads" and who had already conducted news conferences attacking his voting record on ethics issues.

EVEN considered simply as a respectful tribute to a beloved leader, "Cornell Capa: Photographer," the marvelous retrospective now at the uptown branch of the International Center of Photography, is a noteworthy event. Mr. Capa, now 76, founded the center . in 1974, and through his deft maneuverings and considerable charm as its director, built it into one of the world's leading venues for photography. But Mr. Capa, who retired from his post in June, brought to his job more than a twinkling eye and a rare ability to navigate the treacherous waters of the New York art world. Before setting up the center, he had a distinguished career as a photographer himself; while a scattering of his pictures have been included in group shows at the center he founded, this is the first full-blown recognition given to a chapter of his life that he put aside when he became director.

A summer of smoke, military helicopters and bombers heavy with fire retardant has yet to recede in the West, where an army of yellow-shirted warriors is battling in one of the worst wildfire seasons in recent years. For firefighters, it is the most lethal year since 1933. Some experts attribute the high mortality rate to something other than nature or simple bad luck. Firefighting, they say, has gone from a war against flame-consumed brush and timber to a more dangerous and more costly battle to save the rising number of houses built in fire zones.