October 16, 2000

Vinny Testaverde came back today and the Jets were back to being themselves. They were back to a smothering defense that had been embarrassed last week by Pittsburgh, but which bludgeoned New England quarterback Drew Bledsoe with seven sacks, the most by the Jets in eight years.

Chevron to Acquire Texaco In a $36 Billion Stock Deal Chevron, the nation's third-largest oil company, has agreed to buy Texaco for $36 billion in stock, creating the world's fourth-largest oil concern. The company's boards approved the deal, which is expected to be announced today. The acquisition is likely to come under intense scrutiny by regulators, who could force the combined company to divest itself of certain assets, especially in states like California where the company would dominate the retail gas station business. [Page A1.]

After Edward Gorey died in April, Andreas Brown, one of the executors of his estate, visited Gorey's 200-year-old 15-room house in Yarmouth Port, Mass. Mr. Brown began searching through closets, crannies -- in Gorey's words, ''beneath the floor, behind the door'' -- and possibly up the chimney. Amid the cosmic disarray, he discovered hundreds of stories and sketches, some finished, some unfinished, left behind by this grand master of the macabre. This is, Mr. Brown said, a trove of Goreyiana, with ample material for many future books and for plays based on his work.

It was on Sept. 30, 1996 that Lucent Technologies left the nest and began its new life as a maker of communications equipment independent from its parent, AT&T. That day, Lucent's shares closed at a split-adjusted value a bit below $11. Last Tuesday, a little more than four years later, the company unnerved Wall Street, announcing for the third time this year that it would not meet its financial targets. The next day, Lucent's shares lost about a third of their value, falling $10 to $21.38. The stock closed on Friday at $23.25, down from almost $80 late last year.

What would be the plot line if television tried to capture the rocky relationship between William E. Kennard, the chairman of the Federal Communications Commission, and the nation's largest broadcasting companies? If it were produced by Mr. Kennard, the series might be called ''Lost in Place.'' It would be the saga of a crass industry that, swimming in a sea of profit and consolidation, has forsaken its obligations as trustees of the airwaves, corrupted children through sexually explicit and violent programming, ignored the political weal by refusing to provide adequate air time for candidates, and pretty much forgotten about opening its ranks to minorities.