Stephen King creates ''The Stand'' miniseries

The awning on the Playland video arcade in Times Square bears the words t- shirts/ny souvenirs/sweatshirts/ photo i.d.'s/theatrical gifts. The production has come to Manhattan for its final day of principal photography. It's July 1 and hotter than hell at high noon.

Cloaked in a hooded shroud, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar is shooting a cameo as the Monster Shouter, a prophet of doom who walks the chaotic streets of midtown ringing a bell and yelling, "Bring out your dead! Monsters are coming!"

"It's just another day in New York," says the former L.A. Laker, born and raised in Manhattan. "It's tough on me here because everybody recognizes me pretty quickly. It gets crazy."

Though he should be accustomed to sweating, Abdul-Jabbar complains about his woolly costume to ABC president Robert Iger, who has stopped by the set. Iger wears a suit and tie, yet he's not perspiring. King arrives, showing off the black T-shirt he just bought. Above a drawing of the New York City skyline are the words welcome to the jungle.

After chatting for a few minutes with Iger, King asks, "So, are you going to have a violence warning on this?"

"That's a good question," Iger replies diplomatically.

"It's a violent epic," King says. "Plus (a warning) will sell tickets." (Ultimately, ABC chose the simple tag "Parental discretion is advised.")

Abdul-Jabbar does a few takes in front of the arcade, then crosses Broadway to a traffic island where he'll be filmed from a different angle. King watches, leaning on a fence in front of a row of people buying discount theater tickets. A few of them call out Abdul-Jabbar's name.

"He's not a basketball player," King tells one guy. "He's a Monster Shouter!"

The number 666 flashes in red neon atop a high-rise looming over Central Park, where the Stand company has made its last move. Woody Allen gets out of a cab to have dinner at the Sherry-Netherland. Joey Buttafuoco has allegedly been spotted on a bench.

King has been in the city all day, and he seems tired of being recognized; Las Vegas has nothing on New York when it comes to pushy fans. "It's the price of doing business, but I f---ing hate it big- time," he says, noshing at the catering table. "It's like white noise in your head. Society has taught these people that if they see somebody they know from the arts, they're supposed to be able to go up and get an autograph. I don't (sign them) very much."

A few moments later, a homeboy introduces himself as Ricky and asks King for his autograph. King declines. Ricky stalks off, then returns with a shaven-headed friend and asks again.

This time King consents. "The badass thing is just an act," he tells them as he signs a piece of paper.

Ricky departs in triumph. "I got Stephen King's autograph!" he hollers, slinging an arm around his pal.

At midnight, Garris sets up his final shot, an overhead view of Abdul- Jabbar lying on the ground. During the last take, there is silence. In the dark, Central Park is one of the scariest places in the world, yet tonight there's an eerily peaceful feeling. After more than 15 years of waiting and nearly six months of shooting, Stephen King has made his Stand.