By LIZ GOFF

David Berkowitz loved the women of Queens. He was particularly fond of those with long, dark hair. In his rantings to newspapers and police during his yearlong siege, the Son of Sam wrote:

"I love the wemon [sic] of Queens. They are the prettiest. To kill."

Sam’s words and actions sent the borough into a tailspin during the summer of 1976. Mothers forbade their daughters to venture into the night – especially with a date. Hairdressers worked overtime, shearing the long locks of terrified young women who felt safer with shorter coifs. And local "lovers’ lanes" were abandoned by passionate couples who feared that Sam would appear, armed with his favorite .44-caliber Bulldog Special.

Young people and their parents joined in a collective sigh of relief when Berkowitz was arrested outside his Yonkers apartment building on Aug. 10, 1977.

Sam is serving 424 years in prison for his crimes.

When city newspapers went out on strike, the Tribune increased its circulation with door-to-door distribution in neighborhoods through Queens.

The paper also featured new sections, including TV listings, movie timetables, horoscopes, crossword puzzles and new columnists.

1980 - Revitalization:
The Astoria Studios:

Developer George Kaufman stepped up to the plate in June 1980 to rescue the abandoned Astoria Studio complex.

Kaufman expanded the complex, returning the studios to their former prominence as a state-of-the-art motion picture, television, radio and recording complex.

The economic growth of the revitalized Kaufman Astoria Studios is one of the most impressive stories in the financial annals of New York City.

The once decaying property and buildings that were Paramount Pictures’ East Coast Studios during the birth of the American film industry and the U. S. Signal Corps Army Pictorial Center for over 30 years are now back in operation due to the vision and tenacity of labor, management and government. Kaufman put together the financial package to rehabilitate and expand the production center.

New York has long been a motion picture and television production center. But until the reopening of Kaufman Astoria Studios in 1977, there were no studio facilities in New York that could offer producers professional sound stages, "one-stop shopping," cost effectiveness, efficiency and security. The studio – with the exception of Paramount’s "Thieves" (filmed in 1976) – had been inoperative since 1970. The lease between New York and George Kaufman was engineered in 1981 through the Public Development Corporation, with low interest loans arranged through the federal government’s Office of Economic Development, as well as the city. Prior to the city’s takeover of the property, the federal government had planned to sell the entire 5.3-acre parcel. If motion picture unions, guilds and vendors had not stepped in to prevent such a sale, the studio would have gone out of existence, and New York wouldn’t have had its resurgence as a major motion picture center.

Kaufman Astoria Studios contain the first new sound stages to be built from scratch in over 50 years in the New York area. The construction of two studios, each 12,060 square feet, alone provided over 500 jobs in the construction industry. Some $23 million went into the construction of the new sound stages, a three-story support building and the rehabilitation of the existing sound stages and their support facilities.

Today, the complex has grown to over 14 acres with in-house facilities serving virtually every aspect of the communications and entertainment industries.

Around the studio, property values that were depressed years ago have doubled, and in some cases tripled. The area, which is primarily made up of apartment and single-family residential structures, sprinkled with industrial buildings, is now a highly desirable section of New York City.

June 1983 – The Queens Tricentennial:

Queens celebrated its Tricentennial in June by hosting a major party – a two-day celebration in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park.

Almost one million people filed into the park to join in the celebration.

The Rise and Fall of Borough President Donald Manes is probably the most important story of Queens’ past 30 years.

"Donny" owned Queens – his formidable image a familiar sight, bounding down the steps at Queens Borough Hall.

But in the beginning of 1986, Donny began to sweat. Not small beads of sweat, but pools of perspiration, in the middle of a January frost.

Manes was actually feeling the heat of an impending federal racketeering investigation that would put him in the center of the greatest scandal to hit New York City in a century. The scandal sent a parade of public officials off to prison for accepting bribes. As the scandal unfolded, Donny was portrayed more as a patronage politician whose hobbies included passing cash in brown bags than the all-around good-guy he made himself out to be. Time had run out on the Queens Borough President.

Manes attempted suicide on Jan. 9, 1986 – two days after he was sworn in for his fourth term. For the next 12 days, Manes swore he was robbed by two men who slashed his left wrist and ankle, then left him to bleed to death. He finally confessed from his hospital bed that he had tried to take his own life.

Manes was on the phone with his psychiatrist on the night of March 12, 1986 when he grabbed a kitchen knife from a drawer at his Queens home and jabbed it into his heart.

Manes’ funeral was attended by more than 600 people – many of whom would be jailed for their part in his municipal madness. The funeral was held at the Schwartz Brother Memorial Home – a postscript to the story of the scandal and the man.

Several years prior, Manes had whispered to others during services at Schwartz Brothers for a colleague, establishing the patronage, corruption and bribe-collecting network that would later make him sweat.

1986 – The "Amazin’ Mets":

It hadn’t been the best of years for the borough of Queens. Rocked by scandal and racially divided, the year was slipping away – to leave a legacy of despair and frustration.

But throughout that summer and into autumn, redemption appeared attainable on a national stage. The New York Mets, the darlings of Flushing and Queens, tore through the national league with a spirited confidence that bordered on arrogance. It had all turned around in a matter of three years. They had climbed from the cellar to vie for a title, and boasted such sure immortals as Ron Darling, Darryl Strawberry, Keith Hernandez and, of course, Doc Gooden.

With greatness so close, the season and all it stood for was in jeopardy. On a cold night at the end of October, Queens was down to its last strike. The New York Mets, the most dominant team in baseball through 162 games, the brash symbol of success the borough had rallied around, watched from the dugout as their championship dreams crumbled like dry dead leaves.

Wild play and a wild pitch got the Mets back in the game, and then veteran Mookie Wilson, number 1, stood at the plate with the eyes of the city upon him. Mook responded with a weak dribbler to the right side. He dashed down the line in a desperate foot race with fate as Red Sox first baseman Bill Buckner crouched to gather up the grounder. Buckner didn’t crouch low enough, however, as the ball squirted between his ravaged legs and into right field. An astounded and exultant Ray Knight rounded third and scored, leaping into the arms of his teammates. The Mets lived to play another day, and the rest was history. Bringing the championship home to Flushing shortly after, they paraded down Broadway as conquering heroes, riding with the top down through a cascade of confetti and ticker tape. In the last innings of 1986, the Mets salvaged the borough’s dignity and pride. The Mets brought us back together.

"What happened that night, I guess, is part of Mets’ folklore," Wilson said in retrospect. "Some would say it was kind of predestined like a continuation of the Magical Mets of 1969."

Coach Davey Johnson led the Queens Boys of summer to an amazin’ victory in September 1986.