Susan Benedetto and Tony Bennett. (Eugene Mim/Patrick McMullan)

Tony Bennett’s wasn’t the only gala dinner in Manhattan last Thursday, but that’s where Shindigger was, arriving at Cipriani 42nd Street for cocktail hour, just in time to catch a glimpse of Alec Baldwin. “Oh my God, he’s lost so much weight—I didn’t even recognize him!” we heard one guest whisper to another, eyeing the star who would kick off 30 Rock’s final season later that night. Mr. Baldwin’s wife, Hilaria Thomas, flaunted her Hebrew for the night’s honoree, entertainment lawyer Allen Grubman, before the couple headed off to the Norman Mailer Center benefit at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel.

Mr. Bennett, whose nonprofit Exploring the Arts operates in New York public schools, apparently lacked Ms. Thomas’s linguistic talent. Or so we learned when we asked the 86-year-old crooner, whose third Duets album pairs him with the likes of Marc Anthony and Gloria Estefan, about his Spanish. “No habla Español,” answered his 46-year-old wife, co-host and translator, Susan Benedetto. We changed the subject to Mr. Bennett’s next album, a recently announced full-length collaboration with Lady Gaga. “I know that she’s one of the great singers of all time, but people don’t know that,” Mr. Bennett explained. “They just see another, you know, big new star coming up, but she is one hell of a singer. She can improvise as great as Ella Fitzgerald.”

We stopped at the bar to take in the student artwork, alongside photographs of Mr. Bennett (himself a talented painter) with young dancers and musicians. A disembodied voice urged us to our table, where pink paintbrushes matched the flower arrangement. 

We watched Sting, unannounced, dedicate “Fields of Gold” to Mr. Grubman and his wife, Corcoran broker Deborah. “Allen Grubman and I have had a long relationship, over three decades,” the man born Gordon Sumner recalled. “A very mutually fruitful relationship. I once had a meeting with him, though, and I said, ‘Allen, explain this to me. You seem to be taking 20 percent of my money.’ He said, ‘Sting, let me sit you down. Look at it this way.’ I said, ‘How?’ He said, ‘You’re taking 80 percent of my money.’”

Sting continued with “Every Breath You Take,” drawing out a last “I’ll be waaaaatching you” to cheers and a standing ovation from table 27, before the Police bassist—who recorded the “The Boulevard of Broken Dreams” for Mr. Bennett’s first Duets album—split to the Children’s Health Fund benefit at Radio City.

With all these duets, we wondered why Mr. Bennett had left out the vocalist behind 1968’s It’s Time for Regis! We posed the question to Regis Philbin.

“’Cause I’m not that good, believe me!” replied the former talk show host.

We objected.

“Have you heard me sing? When did I sing? Come on, let’s hear it!”

Only a year ago, we reminded him, he and Mr. Bennett performed “The Best Is Yet to Come” on Live! With Regis and Kelly.

“You’re right. And that came out okay!

“I love you,” he announced, giving our right hand a squeeze.

Mistress of ceremonies Katie Couric had similar ideas. “Regis, I’m very sorry, Regis, but you didn’t make the cut. Has Tony talked to you about that?” Hey, that was our joke!

After the dessert plates were cleared, Barbara Walters introduced the Grubmans.

“I represent some of the greatest rock stars in the world,” said Mr. Grubman. “I’ve had two idols my entire life—singers: Tony, and of course Frank Sinatra,” who gave his name to the high school Mr. Bennett founded in his hometown of Astoria.

The evening’s host took the stage with his four-piece band. “Because of You” led into a triumphant “Maybe This Time” that brought the whole crowd to its feet. Earlier, we had asked Nancy Pelosi, who had flown overnight from Denver’s debate to a fund-raising lunch on the Upper East Side, what she wanted to hear Mr. Bennett sing. “Oh my gosh, I don’t know!” the House minority leader had answered. “San Francisco, inching toward the World Series, everyone wants him to sing ‘I Left My Heart in San Francisco,’ but he’s not gonna sing that.” We hoped she was listening as Mr. Bennett launched into that tune—although we pity her beloved Giants, down two games to the Cincinatti Reds at press time.

Mr. Bennett introduced his next song: “George and Ira Gershwin wrote a song in 1934 that I consider the most contemporary song you could sing today.” His meaning became clear a few bars into “Who Cares,” as he dramatically covered his eyes when he got to the line “Let a million firms go under.” “There’s nothing like this right here,” the singer announced, and, hearing his unamplified voice fill the former Bowery Savings Bank with “Fly Me to the Moon,” we were inclined to agree.

jwolf@observer.com

While the women went off to mingle over cucumber cocktails and discuss Ms. Freston's useful diet tips—pardon us, it's not a diet book, it's a cleanse—Mr. Freston huddled with Rolling Stone editor Jann Wenner, Vanity Fair's Graydon Carter, the entertainment lawyer Allen Grubman and film producer Harvey Weinstein. The gentlemen, all wearing jackets and neckties, quietly talked into each other's ears and occasionally said things like, "O.K., so I'll call you about that thing next week," loudly enough for the surrounding guests to overhear.

Nearby was Ms. Freston, an attractive, skinny blond in her 40s who used to be a model, wearing a slimming pink cocktail dress.

"This is not a fast," she said of the book, published by Weinstein Books, that has already gained the approval of Ellen DeGeneres, Oprah Winfrey and Dr. Mehmet Oz. The follow up to her first Quantum Wellness book, which came out just last month, instructs readers on how to carry out a 21-day cleanse by giving up sugar, caffeine, alcohol, gluten and animal products. "It's basically a whole foods, plant-based diet. It's medically sound. You don't have to feel deprived and you still get all your nutrition." 

Ms. Freston has been a vegan for a long time now. Her philosophy, she said, is to "lean" into the vegan lifestyle and give up one animal at a time. "I gave up steak, then pork chops, then chicken, then fish, and eventually became a vegan," she said. Her husband, however, is not a vegetarian, but he's made some progress. 

"Well! We eat vegan in the house because I'm in control of the kitchen, but when we're out, he eats whatever he wants," she said.

Mr. Freston, who in his 60s stands tall and handsome, described himself as a "partial veganist." 

"I eat fish and dairy, but not meat so much," he said. "Kathy always says, 'Give up one animal at a time.' So, I started with the little ones and worked my way up!"

The former CEO, who has been doing yoga for years now, has even tried the cleanse invented by his wife.

"It was not bad," he said. "You know, it's not like a diet where you're not eating enough food and you're hungry all the time. It's hard the first week and then you get used to it. But I still found myself waiting for that 21st day. When it finally came, I made a big pot of coffee."

Has his health improved since marrying Kathy?

"Yea-ha!" he said. "It's made a massive improvement in my health and, hopefully, my life expectancy. I've always been in good shape, I think, and watched my weight, but my diatary awareness probably wasn't as good as it should have been. She sets a firm pace and I'm just trying to hang in there."

The photographer Patrick McMullan, who was not only shooting the party, but was also listed as one of the hosts, invited Ms. Freston to the front of the room to say a few words.

"Thank you, Harvey Weinstein, and everyone at Weinstein. I love being part of your family," she said. "You are fierce and great at what you do."

Then she turned to Mr. McMullan: "And Patrick," she said, surveying the tightly packed room. "Boy, you call and they come!"

In the main room, there were yoga performers, practicing couples yoga as the guests surrounding them looked on in expensive cocktail dresses and tall heels. One thing the organizers of the party didn't seem to account for is that yoga studios are generally very hot with minimal ventilation so as to allow for the complete sweaty yoga experience. And so, as the downstairs studio began to fill up, it became uncomfortably warm. (Mr. Wenner hung out by the stairs the entire time, never venturing too deep into the sweaty room.)

But Mr. Weinstein, who was making his way around shaking hands, didn't seem to mind. His beautiful wife, designer Georgina Chapman, trailed behind in slim black pants and a candy-striped little jacket. 

"I've seen outlines of the book when they were working on it, but I haven't read it yet," Ms. Chapman told the Daily Transom. "But now I feel under pressure that Harvey and I need to try this."

Ms. Chapman is a vegetarian, but her husband is not. The last time Ms. Chapman tried to do a cleanse—the so-called master cleanse that involves consuming only lemon, maple syrup, water and cayenne pepper for 12 days—it didn't go so well. (Her husband didn't even bother trying.)

"I gave up after a few days. It was awful!" she said. "I lasted three days and on the last day, I went to Waverly."

“I sold myself to television and moved out here,” he explained on the phone from California. “I mean—I love L.A., but I miss New York terribly.”

This summer, after 11 years of living in the Hollywood Hills, the 49-year-old Oscar-winner dried his tears on a 2,215-square-foot loft in Chelsea, which he bought for $2.495 million.

But the move isn’t only personal, he said.

“When Six Feet Under ended, it was such an exciting thing to dive into different projects,” he said. “It was five years of peering into the abyss.”

Filming is slated to begin in New York this fall on Mr. Ball’s adaptation of the Alicia Erian novel Towelhead, and in January his first play in a dozen years, All That I Will Ever Be, hits the New York Theatre Workshop.

“Rather than stay in a hotel for five months, why not get a place?” he said. “I’ve wanted to get one, and now I have the perfect place to do it.”

His new apartment, in the 11-story Chelsea condo called the Dance Building, has 53 feet of downtown-facing windows that open onto a private balcony.

“The condo is a beauty and the neighborhood is so convenient,” he said. “The production company is two blocks away!”

He’ll keep his place in the Hollywood Hills, which gives his three dogs room to roam. And despite the size of his new loft, he said, his dogs won’t be staying with him when he comes to New York.

The building takes its name from the venerable Dance Theater Workshop, which makes its home in the building’s bottom three floors.

Halstead broker Ivana Tagliamonte, who represented seller Mitchell Schnapp, said that the 12 apartments above aren’t troubled by the pitter-patter of little feet.

“They have double-insulated walls and floors,” she said. Her client made a packet on the place: He paid $1.325 million for the loft in July 2003.

Mr. Ball was represented by Brown Harris Stevens’ Norberto Bilgoraj.

Lizzie Grubman’s Big ‘Break-Through’

The omnipotent entertainment lawyer Alan Grubman has bought his daughter Lizzie--the young P.R. honcho--a one-bedroom apartment at the Savoy, on East 61st and Third Avenue.

The deal surfaced in city records last month, though a contract was signed back on Jan. 31, one day after Ms. Grubman’s 35th birthday.

Why might it be a good present? She’s already in the building: Back in November 2000, Ms. Grubman bought units next door to and below the new apartment. Though sales prices aren’t available, city archives show that three years later she sold the duplex to her father. She still lives there, though, and Mr. Grubman remains on Park Avenue.

As for the Savoy: “I thought that the building was fabulous, I would like to go back there,” said the seller, Long Island real-estate agent Dawn Iseson. Any reason in particular? “It was the only building that was non-union, so if everyone else went on strike it was still operating.”

Then there’s the shopping. “You’re right across from Bloomingdale’s,” said Ms. Iseson, the branch manager for Century 21 Laffey Manhasset. Plus: “You have parking right on the street until 7 in the morning.”

More romantically, Ms. Iseson said that her old condo had memorable views up the East River, over the 59th Street Bridge. “And there’s a panorama to the West Side, because I had the balcony.” As for the décor: “It was redone last year; a nice easy flow. It was all done to the nines!”

Ms. Iseson represented herself during the deal. She hadn’t been looking to sell, and didn’t have much work to do. “It was the buyer’s broker who came to me,” she said. “Carol Cohen.”

That would be the Carol Cohen of the Corcoran Group, longtime business partner of Deborah Grubman, Lizzie’s stepmother.

Reached at their offices, the three women each declined to comment. So did Mr. Grubman, contacted through his assistant.

Deeds show that Ms. Iseson bought her apartment in June 2004 for $737,500. According to online database PropertyShark, the place is 736 square feet--so is Ms. Grubman’s lower-floor apartment. Her unit upstairs, next door to the old Iseson residence, is 1,388 square feet.

How will Ms. Grubman fill all that space? Fortunately, she and her husband are with child.

When Ms. Iseson was asked if she knew why the inimitable Allen Grubman had bought her apartment, she said: “His daughter Lizzie, who lives next door, is breaking through.”

Did this Long Island broker realize the identity of Ms. Cohen’s breaking-through client from the beginning? No.

But: “Let’s just say at a certain point I knew it was her. It made sense that someone above or below would want it.”

But four days into the media storm that was precipitated by the incident, it has become clear that repairing the human damage–to the injured, to Ms. Grubman's reputation and to the family, friends and business associates who have been affected by her actions–is going to require much more than shingles and nails. Already a small group of expensive men well acquainted with crisis–including public relations executive Howard Rubenstein, Southampton attorney Edward Burke Jr. and Manhattan attorney Edward Hayes–have begun plugging the ugly hole Ms. Grubman put into her well-manicured world, now that she has been charged with six counts of first-degree assault, one count of reckless endangerment, one count of second-degree assault and one count of leaving the scene of an accident involving physical injury. (Ms. Grubman posted $25,000 bail; a court date was set for Sept. 5.) And they are attempting to secure loose lips and quell angry voices in both the Hamptons and Manhattan, in the hope that eventually everything will seem as smooth and seamless as Conscience Point's shabby-chic façade.

But that is no easy task in this part of the world. For every acquiescent member of the New York establishment who's friendly with Ms. Grubman or her extremely successful father, entertainment attorney Allen Grubman, there is an ambitious, frustrated striver on the wrong side of the velvet rope looking to shake things up. For every couple that spends tens of thousands of dollars to summer in the Hamptons, there is a year-round resident who resents the conspicuousness of these weekenders. And for every publicist who shares Ms. Grubman's client list–Ms. Grubman's clients include Diane von Furstenberg, the rapper Jay-Z, Sony Music chief Tommy Mottola and the Los Angeles nightclub Moomba (and its defunct New York predecessor) as well as Conscience Point–there is one who covets her success.

So when Ms. Grubman crashed her 2001 black Mercedes Benz M320 S.U.V. into Conscience Point–intentionally or not–she breached the barriers that keep these disparate groups from each other's throats.

And recent headlines indicate it won't be so easy to reconstruct them.

By Saturday night, Independence Day celebrations were still raging across the Hamptons and fireworks were exploding over Route 27. At 10:45 p.m., Hamptons magazine society editor R. Couri Hay walked into the restaurant NV Tsunami in East Hampton. Over Veuve Clicquot and sushi, Mr. Hay declared Ms. Grubman's career over. "I think Lizzie's business is going to be in trouble," said Mr. Hay, wearing a Ralph Lauren seersucker blazer and Prada slacks. "I think her reputation is wrecked, and I think she needs to go away, go out of business, sit back and get her life organized, because I'm not sure she's in a position now to give other people public-relations advice.

"People like Lizzie. But this was a series of really bad decisions … and it's going to be really interesting to see how much money and power is going to change this equation, how the cards are going to fall. Sadly, after talking to a lot of P.R. people, there's a certain amount of glee. Lizzie's a famous party girl and there's a certain amount of 'Hey, she's gonna get shut down.' I see people already carving up the business; I've heard people talking about who's gonna get the fallout of the business."

By Monday night, Ms. Grubman appeared stricken, raw, makeup-less on the local news shows. Mr. Rubenstein had expressed her extreme regret in the matter, and one friend of the family said that Ms. Grubman would probably attempt to minimize her predicament by reaching out to those who were injured with the mantra: "I'm sorry, we'll pay."

But Tuesday, July 10, the papers quoted the Southampton police report saying that after one of the nightclub's bouncers asked Ms. Grubman to move her Mercedes from the "fire lane," the publicist allegedly replied, "Fuck you, white trash."

As one of Ms. Grubman's staunch supporters noted, New Yorkers are capable of saying anything when they are in a rage. But with this, Ms. Grubman broke the bonds of sympathy extended to her and began to exemplify the caricature of the crazed harridan, wild behind the wheel. Some observers–including one friend of Ms. Grubman's family who requested anonymity–took these stories as a sign that Suffolk D.A. James Catterson, facing a tough battle for reelection this November, will take a special interest in this case.

"It is a war of P.R.," said Gerald Lefcourt, a New York attorney, Hamptons resident and past president of the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers. "If the perception of the D.A. is that the community is fed up, the D.A. is more than likely going to make an example [of Ms. Grubman]. In which case, she's in a lot of goddamn trouble."

Indeed, as another attorney who's following the case observed, if the D.A.'s office can make a case that Ms. Grubman acted intentionally, it could affect whether or not any liability insurance she or her father may have pays any claims that result.

Via e-mail, Mr. Catterson's spokesman, Drew Biondo, wrote that Ms. Grubman's case "is under full investigation with plans to present the case to a grand jury in the next several weeks." Asked if the D.A. is investigating anyone in addition to Ms. Grubman–such as the owners of Conscience Point–Mr. Biondo reiterated: "The full case is under full investigation."

According to Mr. Biondo, Mr. Catterson had no comment about Ms. Grubman's alleged "white trash" comments. Nor did the publicist's camp. Mr. Rubenstein said: "The lawyer has decided that Lizzie, the lawyer and I will have no comment on that subject." The lawyer to whom Mr. Rubenstein referred was Edward Burke Jr., a Suffolk County attorney and the son of a Republican judge, who is well-versed in an area with legal paths as arcane as its back roads.

As for Mr. Rubenstein, he has to make sure that all those behind Ms. Grubman are of one voice. Indeed, if there is one thing that New Yorkers in Ms. Grubman's orbit are dying to know, it's what her partner in publicity, Peggy Siegal, makes of the situation. A year ago, Ms. Siegal joined forces with Ms. Grubman in a potentially synergistic uptown-downtown merger. Though the Dec. 7, 1998, issue of New York magazine anointed Ms. Grubman one of the "Power Girls" of publicity, and though she benefited from her father's numerous show-business connections as well as her former boss Nadine Johnson's Rolodex, she lacked a certain depth of knowledge of the city's more established social sets.

But, in the aftermath of the incident, as some of Ms. Grubman's and Ms. Siegal's competition seemed positively giddy with Schadenfreude , Ms. Siegal was oddly mute about what was going to happen to her business. Ms. Siegal had been out of town, in Marbella, Spain, attending the wedding of financier Dixon Boardman and the much younger princess Arianna von Hohenlohe.

Ms. Siegal had returned to New York on the evening of July 7, and on July 9, society writer David Patrick Columbia, posted an item on his Web site, Newyorksocialdiary.com, noting that he had encountered Ms. Siegal at 6 a.m. on July 8. Ms. Siegal was sitting on a bench outside the Village Cheese Shop on Main Street, in Southampton, reading a newspaper. "I asked her what happened," Mr. Columbia wrote. "She looked at me as if to ask me. She had no idea …. She was staying at a friend's house that night in Southampton when she started getting calls from the press: 'What happened?' She knew nothing." For someone who prides herself on knowing everything, it was a highly unusual response.

Ms. Siegal wasn't any more forthcoming the evening of July 9, when her firm screened Sony Pictures Classics' Japanese gangster flick, Brother . And on July 10, when The Observer tried to interview her by phone, she said that she would first have to talk to Mr. Rubenstein. A half-hour later, an e-mail arrived from Ms. Siegal's office: "Lizzie has been a terrific friend and business associate," Ms. Siegal said in her statement. "We all feel terrible that this accident has happened and wish the speediest recovery to those injured. Our clients have been most supportive and we are trying to conduct business as usual."

But that can't be easy when her partner has become the story. On Saturday, July 7, at approximately 8 p.m., for example, actresses Reese Witherspoon and Selma Blair stood beneath a large white tent that had been pitched next to the Cabana lounge in Southhampton. Wearing an M.R.S. dress and Prada heels and chewing a wad of pink bubblegum, Ms. Witherspoon looked particularly eager to chat with journalists about her role as a Malibu Barbie turned Harvard Law graduate in the comedy Legally Blonde .

But on this warm July night, the reporters and even the publicists who had attended the event–which was organized by Ms. Grubman's competition, Harrison & Shriftman–were not particularly interested in what the actresses had to say. Instead, they were fixated on the incident at Conscience Point, a comedy with tragic undertones. Hamptons documentary maker Barbara Kopple was filming the Legally Blonde event and maybe, a year from now, her edited footage will show a small army of journalists and gossip columnists–including Marc Malkin and Beth Landman Keil of New York magazine, Marcus Baram of US Weekly and Chris Wilson of the New York Post 's Page Six column–ignoring the film's stars as they talked excitedly on their cell phones to editors, city desks, even sources in Los Angeles about Ms. Grubman . Mr. Hay could be seen running through the crowd, handing his cell phone to anyone at the party who might have some news for the Daily News ' George Rush, who was at the other end of the call.

Later that night, at 1 a.m. on the morning of July 8, business was booming at Conscience Point, where, for once, everyone had something in common. Max LeRoy, son of the late restaurateur Warner LeRoy, ordered a drink at the bar in the elbow-to-elbow-packed V.I.P. room, where a bottle of Cristal champagne costs $1,000. "Do you think her career is over?" he asked The Observer .

There was no shortage of people in the V.I.P. room who claimed to have witnessed the incident and its aftermath the evening before, but most refused to talk for fear of being blacklisted from Conscience Point or removed from Ms. Grubman's mailing list.

Most of those who did talk about what had happened that night spoke under the condition of anonymity. "It was like a massacre. It felt like a bombing in Israel," said a 24-year-old publicist at a firm competitive with Ms. Grubman's. The publicist said that she'd walked out of the club's V.I.P. room right after Ms. Grubman's car hit the wall and found a tangle of people with broken limbs and blood pooling on the ground. "I just saw bodies lying all over," said the publicist.

Witnesses said Ms. Grubman jumped out of the car and ran into the club after the accident, allegedly leaving two people still trapped by the S.U.V. "There was all this commotion–there was like bloody feet, people on the ground, blood covering their feet. Everybody kinda just starts to kinda moan, nobody knows what's going on," said the publicist. "There was all this chaos, and there were police. Paramedics didn't get there for like half an hour. Because I knew so many people there, I was running back and forth–everyone was like, 'How's this person? How's that person?' It was like a surreal experience."

The publicist said her friend, record producer Adam Wacht, was one of the people who had been injured. "His ankles were shattered; they had to be reconstructed," she said. On July 9, Mr. Wacht declined an Observer reporter's request to interview him.

The publicist said that seven of the people who were hit by Ms. Grubman's car were from the same share house. Sarah Thorne, the group associate publisher of Hamptons magazine , was loaded into an ambulance, suffering from broken ribs and wearing an oxygen mask. Witnesses said she begged a friend to remove her expensive lace-up Jimmy Choo sandals so they wouldn't be cut off by the paramedics. One woman suffered fractured bones in her face; one person's broken arm was dangling from its joint; one woman was pinned, her pelvis broken, between the car and the club's wall. Jacqueline Powers, a senior editor a t Maxim and the daughter of Jerry Powers, the publisher of Miami' s Ocean Drive magazine, was knocked to the ground and left with a bruised left cheek.

According to several witnesses, after the crash Ms. Grubman ran into the club and started asking people if they were O.K. "She got out of her car and went back into Conscience Point V.I.P. room," said the publicist source. "Lizzie was in the club, hanging out inside. She kinda went back into the crowd or something, and then I don't know what happened after that."

Those same witnesses also said that, after the crash, police officers searched for Ms. Grubman inside Conscience Point with handcuffs–and kept mistaking Lara Shriftman for Ms. Grubman. Ms. Shriftman co-owns the public relations firm Harrison & Shriftman and appeared on the New York "Power Girls" cover with Ms. Grubman. Both women are bottle blondes, and Ms. Shriftman happened to be wearing an outfit–a short jean skirt and white shirt–similar to Ms. Grubman's attire. (Ms. Shriftman declined to comment.)

The impact of the S.U.V. against the wall of the nightclub also apparently left Conscience Point's V.I.P. room in chaos. One woman who was dancing on the other side of the wall said that the force of the impact "hit our table, and we all fell off the couch we were dancing on. It really felt like … a train hit," she said. "And all the tables were–all the couches got thrown against the wall, and all the people got thrown." The woman said that a light fell on her girlfriend and left her with a cut that required 12 stitches. "One of the guys who was dancing on top of the couch was thrown to the bar," which was approximately 30 feet away.

"People were bruised and cut," the V.I.P.-room witness said, "but not like the people outside. We looked through the window … and there were people lying everywhere with bloody faces."

Socialite Casey Johnson, 21, a Conscience Point fixture, said that she was standing by the bar in the V.I.P. room when Ms. Grubman's car crashed. Just moments before the crash, Ms. Johnson had moved from a banquet near where the car hit the building, saving herself from injury. "I was inside the room when it happened," she said. "No, I didn't feel it."

But others sensed the impact of the incident even if they didn't witness it, and some sought to contain it. Around 4 a.m. Saturday morning, two hours after the accident, after most of the injured had been transported to area hospitals, a group that included Jason Strauss, one of the club's owners, as well as one of the club's promoters and four or five other people, was seen standing in the parking lot of the 7-Eleven on Route 27 with their cell phones glued to their ears. They were "doing damage control … trying to control the rumor mill," said a 26-year-old banker who witnessed the confab. "They were definitely trying to be in a non-public place to strategize. They pulled together their cars, as opposed to being at the club where they were being marauded."

Locally, Ms. Grubman was being represented by Mr. Burke, a man well acquainted with the idiosyncrasies of the Suffolk County legal system. Mr. Burke has a reputation as the kind of lawyer you hire when you're in trouble in the Hamptons. His father, Edward Burke Sr., is an active Republican who served as Southampton town justice from 1994 to 2000, until Governor Pataki appointed him a State Court of Claims judge. Court of Claims judges act as State Supreme Court judges, but have the additional authority to hear lawsuits entered against the state. Mr. Burke Sr. reportedly is assigned to State Supreme Court in Riverhead where he hears criminal cases.

As for Mr. Burke Jr., he opened a thriving law practice after a stint in the Suffolk County D.A.'s office. He is also no stranger to the restaurant/nightclub business, given that his family owns The Salty Dog, an eatery and catering facility in Noyac.

Mr. Burke acknowledged that he refused to let Ms. Grubman be tested for alcohol or drugs by the Southampton police. "I appeared and I counseled my client accordingly," he said. The police could have returned with what is called a blood warrant, which would have compelled Ms. Grubman to submit to such a test, but Mr. Burke said that that did not happen.

"We certainly look forward to the completion of the District Attorney's investigation as well as the completion of our investigation." Mr. Burke Jr. said haltingly, suggesting that he was still getting used to talking to the media. He added that the suggestion in the press that "that there was evidence and intent to cause serious physical injury to [the bouncer] and others in front of the club is absolutely untrue. This was an accident, and there are a lot of other facts that will come to light at the appropriate time. "

Sources familiar with the situation also said that attorney Edward Hayes–who inspired the character of Tommy Killian in Tom Wolfe's The Bonfire of the Vanities –is counseling the Grubman family and may have actually had a role in the hiring of Mr. Burke Jr. Although Mr. Hayes declined to comment, the dandyish lawyer is well known for his ties to Governor Pataki, who elevated Mr. Burke's father to the State Supreme Court.

– Additional reporting by George Gurley

East Side and dates 30-year-old actress Kylie Travis. Last year he developed

New Roc City, a $180 million entertainment complex in New Rochelle, N.Y., with

apartments next to the IMAX theater and a skating rink that is supposed to

resemble Central Park. But he leaves developing in Manhattan to the "big boys"

like his buddy, Donald Trump.

Mr. Cappelli has other ambitions. He is searching for El

Dorado in the Catskills, where Danny Kaye and Milton Berle once ruled. Louis

Cappelli has bought the Concord.

And Louis Cappelli has bought Grossinger's.

He has become a kind of guardian of history, successfully

bidding in bankruptcy court last year for the two resorts-for which the

designation "legendary" may be an understatement-for a bargain $16.5 million.

There were five other bidders for the Concord. "We were prepared to go to $25

million for the property," said Mr. Cappelli. "When we wound up getting it for

$10 million, we couldn't believe it. We think it's worth $70 million."

Mr. Cappelli, a third-generation Italian-American, went to

the Concord only once, when he was 17, to play golf with Notre Dame college

buddies. But he's ready to bring its glory back for the new-millennium

vacationer who can't be bothered to even drive from a hotel to a restaurant for

dinner. He has big plans to lure Manhattanites, even Hamptons visitors sick of

the L.I.E., back to the Catskills in two years, when the first phase of the

Concord's $500 million face lift is completed.

"The Concord," said Mr. Cappelli, "is my swan song."

And he wants to channel the old Concord's glory days. He

said he wants to stage a production of Cats

in the Concord's 3,000-seat Imperial Theater, which he plans to restore to its

condition in the 1950's, when Joey Adams, Jackie Mason and Alan King worked

there and it was the largest of the 400 hotels in the Catskills. Mr. King spent

his honeymoon at the Concord 53 years ago and said the place was his "favorite

resort," and that he performed there "a million times."

"It needs a fresh look, someone who has vision," said Mr.

King. "When I think about the old days, I have very fond and pleasant memories.

I wish him good luck, but I can't get emotional about it."

But Cats ? Mr.

Cappelli's idea was to draw a younger crowd, but also to summon the exact

spirit that fueled the Concord during the period from its opening in 1937 until

it closed two years ago, by which time ghosts clogged the air: the place where

Mr. Berle, Freddie Roman and Tony Bennett worked the rooms, where Buddy Hackett

met his wife, where Jayne Mansfield lounged by the pool in a bikini and a white

mink coat.

The grandeur of the Catskills-the Sour Cream Sierras, the Hava

Nagila Heights, the Land of Milk and Funny-started to fade in the 1960's, when

vacationers discovered Florida and air-conditioned rooms. By the time Mr.

Cappelli and his partners (including George Soros) showed up intending to raze

80 percent of the old resort and build a proposed four-star French restaurant,

the Catskills resorts were history, and Jenny Grossinger's rye bread was no

longer on America's supermarket shelves.

On the other hand, the Catskills had history, and boy, did

they have golf courses! Possibly good enough to draw chief executives with

their own planes who could fly up, land at Sullivan County's airport 10 miles

from the Concord and play for the day with clients.

Mr. Cappelli parked his BMW and headed into his office in

Valhalla, N.Y. It was filled with leather couches, framed photos of golf

courses and model airplanes. He pointed out a photograph of his girlfriend, Ms.

Travis, in a red dress.

"That's my girl," he said. He met her five years ago, at a

party thrown by Mr. Trump in Atlantic City; Mr. Trump said he introduced them

after a prizefight. Every third weekend, they fly to the Bahamas and stay at

the Atlantis.

Today, though, he was getting ready to fly north. He grabbed

a handful of Halloween candy and headed to the Westchester County airport to

board his helicopter, which was waiting for him, its propellers spinning.

He sat down, his back to the pilots. "It takes an

experienced flier to go backwards," he boasted. "Hovering still makes me

nervous." He pulled out a pack of Trident gum. Over White Plains, he pointed

out some of the office buildings he developed, complete with gyms and

cafeterias. Twenty minutes later, the helicopter landed next to the Concord's

golf course tee.

"I like to keep thinking about who was here," he said,

bringing up Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett as he walked toward the old resort's

hotel, which was gutted save for a few telling remains. Propped up against the

concierge's desk was a large photo of Juliet Prowse, the dancer who was once

engaged to Sinatra, wearing a beaded leotard.

Entering the lobby, to be designed in "Adirondack Mountain

Style," Mr. Cappelli ran his hand over an old sign which read: "No one under 21

years of age permitted."

"We should save these signs!" he said. A Zamboni, once used

to clean the ice rink, was parked under the spiral staircase, which was missing

a railing. He peered into the dark Imperial Theater, which opened on Christmas

1958 with Harry Belafonte headlining.

There's also some talk of building a casino in the Catskills.

Mr. Cappelli said he wouldn't mind if there were gambling nearby. "I figure

with all these guys trying to get a casino, one of them is going to work. I

wish them well. I hope there are three of them up there. If gambling comes,

that will be great for the county, but I don't think the gambler is our

clientele."

Mr. Trump, who has fought legalizing gambling in the

Catskills because it might hurt his casinos in Atlantic City,  agreed. "That area is booming without

gambling, not booming because of gambling," he said. "The Catskills are the new

frontier; that's where people are going. It's going to be very hot." He thinks

that, "at a certain point," even the chi-chi Hamptons crowd will trek upstate

for a weekend. "If he works his magic, he's got a really good shot at it."

Last March, Mr. Cappelli, who heads Concord Associates, a

joint venture of his real estate investment firm, Cappelli Enterprises, and

Reckson Strategic Venture Partners, unveiled his plan by arguing that the

Concord (about 90 miles from New York City, off exit 105B of Route 17) is

within a four-hour drive for 55 million people-and that's how long it takes him

to travel round-trip to his house in Sag Harbor. "He was not a regular member

of the Borscht Belt crowd," said Steven Shepsman, one of Mr. Cappelli's

partners. "He's not trying to make it what it was."

"A lot of people go to Bar Harbor, Me., and Bar Harbor is

not the Hamptons," said Mr. Cappelli. "The water's cold. I think the Concord is

an alternative to going up to Maine or Vermont."

Mr. Cappelli is building six or seven restaurants at the

resort, whose kitchen is equipped to cook for 5,000 people.

"I had dinner in that gargantuan dining room the size of

Madison Square Garden-there were 2,500 people at a seating," said gossip

columnist Cindy Adams, who often went to the Concord with her late husband,

Joey Adams, the comedian and Borscht Belt baron. "You could have any one of 10

appetizers, or 10 main dishes, 10 desserts- and if you wanted, you could have

all 10 desserts and take a bite of each. It was a fashion show of food." She

remembered that the waiters always had a thumb in the silver soup cauldron.

But Ms. Adams, who owns a house in the Hamptons, said she

wasn't so sure the Concord was the answer. She said that people who wanted to

escape the traffic would go someplace like Bedford. "After an enormous search

to become famous and well-known, they search for dark glasses," she said. "A

place to hide with only their own people," she said. "The concept of the

Borscht Belt, that's not an attractive phrase." The Riviera, the Cote d'Azure,

the Costa del Sol all had better names, she said. "The Borscht Belt is not

necessarily chic. It's like Moses wandering in the desert. It takes 40 years

for a whole new generation to grow up to want to go there if it's supposed to

be chic.

"If you import models for free the first couple of weekends,

I'm certain it could have its own niche," she said, but "I can't see a reason

why I would go up there. I don't do winter sports; I can barely walk. I hate

air, I hate trees, I hate insects-I'm not someone who goes to the country,

unless it has great racing or a festival of movies, something other than just

the resort itself. Then I would go."

Mr. Cappelli, however, said that he had done an informal

market study by asking his friends who own houses in the Hamptons if they'd

spend a weekend at the Concord, and they all liked the idea. "I think the Long

Island Expressway and the rents in the Hamptons are going to drive people to a

place where they'll probably have more fun at, which is open air, fresh air,

the mountains instead of the beach."

Mr. Cappelli owns the 1,600 acres surrounding the hotel and

golf course, but he's working on building a conference center, an Alpine

village, an equestrian center and an entertainment and retail complex. He's

planning on renovating Grossinger's after the Concord is finished. The whole

project won't be completed until around 2006.

The Oct. 10 groundbreaking was marked by fireworks, a

10-by-60-foot balloon sculpture spelling out "Concord," confetti shooting from

cannons and real snow flurries. Phase 1 consists of a $150 million demolition,

then 18 months of construction that will create 525 guest rooms (starting at

$200 a night) in the original hotel's structure; two 18-hole and one nine-hole

golf courses; a golf school and tennis academy; a health club and spa; and an

85,000-square-foot convention center that includes a ballroom, a bowling alley

and basketball and volleyball courts. Phase 2 will create 800 additional hotel

rooms and 10 villas featuring 40 suites and time-share units.

Sources said that Mr. Cappelli and his partners were close

to announcing that Starwood Hotels & Resorts Worldwide Inc., which operates

the chic W hotel chain, would manage the resort.

Mr. Cappelli may not get Manhattanites out of their

full-service apartments or break the Hamptons habit, but he should have no

problem filling hotel rooms for a Club Med in the mountains. But the task of

rekindling the Concord's legend may take more than Cats .

Mr. Cappelli said he'd like to have Mariah Carey perform,

and suggested that perhaps  publicist

Lizzie Grubman, the daughter of entertainment lawyer Allen Grubman, could

organize a movie premiere. "The Concord is part of my childhood," said Ms.

Grubman, for whom Mr. Cappelli said he would send a helicopter whenever she

wanted to visit the place. "I think it'd be a big hoot to do a party there."

In fact, said Mr. Cappelli, last summer Ms. Grubman's father

told him that "the Imperial Theater is where all the famous stars were. Maybe

we should get those stars back."

According to Mr. Cappelli, Mr. Grubman had come up to him at

a party in the Hamptons and said: "You're the one. You're the Italian guy that

bought the Concord."

Mr. Cappelli continued: "He said, 'You know, my great-grandfather

went there, my father went there, everybody went there. He said, 'You know how

meaningful it is for you to own the Concord?' I said, 'Well, how?' He goes,

'Can you imagine if a Jew owned the Vatican?'"

"She did the majority of the work for Two Guys and a Girl at Moomba," said Ms. Grubman, between sips of diet Coke. "I got her the location and that sort of stuff-"

"That was Jimmy Toback," interrupted Ms. Siegal from across the banquette, referring to the film's director.

"It was great," said Ms. Grubman, "because we were able to, at that point-"

"… very old, dear friend of mine," continued Ms. Siegal, "and he's best friends with Warren Beatty, and he wrote Bugsy, and he's written a million things for Warren."

"It was probably the best premiere in New York," said Ms. Grubman.

"There was a photograph that appeared in the Post the next day of Madonna, Warren Beatty …"

"Leonardo DiCaprio," said Ms. Grubman.

"And Leonardo DiCaprio, and it said, 'It doesn't get any hotter.'"

"It was amazing," said Ms. Grubman. "And now, looking back on it, that was a very good … example …"

" Indication ," said Ms. Siegal.

"Yeah, of what we could do."

A week into the newly formed Lizzy Grubman Public Relations-Peggy Siegal Company, the two women were eagerly making the point that theirs was the best formula in the best of all possible worlds. The sunny view of the merger: The beboppy Ms. Grubman, a dark-rooted 29-year-old with a successful 3-year-old public relations company and a Rolodex full of music and nightclub clients (Britney Spears, Quincy Jones, Tommy Mottola) would join forces with Ms. Siegal, the 50-ish doyenne of the Manhattan movie premiere with a penchant for sit-down dinners at Le Cirque and a direct line to Regis Philbin.

Less generous souls might question why the famously quick-tempered Ms. Siegal had agreed to any sharing or potential dilution of her power. Despite speculation that Ms. Siegal might technically be working for Ms. Grubman, both women insist their partnership is "50-50."

"Peggy doesn't like to take orders from anyone, whether it be a studio or a boss," said a former employee of Ms. Siegal who requested anonymity, "and I would have to assume that something rather dire put her into the situation of answering to someone else. She beats to her own drummer; that's why she's so good at what she does."

Ms. Siegal said she joined up with Ms. Grubman because she wanted to "diversify and expand and ultimately be involved in a different generation."

"It is weird," said Jake Spitz, a former employee of the Peggy Siegal Company who last year co-founded his own company, Network P.R. "I think it surprised a lot of people. Peggy's so autonomous, and it's always been 'The Peggy Siegal Company.'"

He added, "It sort of makes sense. Lizzie has the bicoastal thing down, the young generation down, and I think she understands press. I think Peggy has unbelievable contacts, but could really use the youth that Lizzie has behind her to bolster her projects. Which is why I think it's a good match."

Norah Lawlor, president of Lawlor Media Group, said, "I think it's good for Lizzie, because it gets her right away to work with the film companies. I think it benefits Peggy, but I think it benefits Lizzie, really."

"What's great about me and Peggy is, we really complement the other one," said Ms. Grubman, who was dressed in a black turtleneck sweater and tight, dark bluejeans. "O.K., we totally have-not totally, to a degree -we have different lists, and when we put them …"

"No, no, excuse me. We don't know the same people," Ms. Siegal said. "Would you write that down? We … do … not … know … the … same … people. O.K."

"Yeah, we don't, O.K.," said Ms. Grubman. "I'm more young Hollywood, she's more established Hollywood."

"She was gonna say old," Ms. Siegal said, eyebrow raised. "But she held her tongue."

Gwyneth and Nora

Ms. Grubman and Ms. Siegal say their first conversation about merging took place in January, when, it seems, Ms. Grubman offered Ms. Siegal some insight into lesbian chic. They had both been hired by HBO to handle the premiere of If These Walls Could Talk 2 , a provocative drama about lesbian relationships.

"I was very nervous about the subject matter," said Ms. Siegal. "I just thought, it's just going to make people uncomfortable, to watch it, right-"

"And, of course, I think the complete reverse," said Ms. Grubman. "'Cause I'm like, 'Everybody loves it! Everyone loves to watch it, it's gonna be great!' And that's when we knew that the two of us should be doing something together."

"She knew something I didn't know," said Ms. Siegal. "She knew to totally embrace the controversy, which is gonna make everybody want to come, and I knew instantly, when she said that, that she was absolutely right."

Like the media and entertainment industries, public relations-and especially its most high-profile element, special events-has fallen prey to consolidation fever. Last year, Bobby Zarem-who trained Liz Rosenberg (Madonna's publicist), Jason Weinberg (now a manager in Hollywood) and Ms. Siegal herself, abandoned his publicity gig for the more reliable consulting business. And, after telling New York magazine that what black rap stars needed was "two big-mouthed Jewish girls to tell it to these guys straight," Jen Posner disbanded her own publicity firm, PB&J, which she had founded with hip-hop specialist Ally Bernstein, who is professionally known as Ally B.

Ally B. found a home with Ms. Grubman, whose initial client list has not suffered from the fact that her father is music attorney Allen Grubman. Since 1997, Ms. Grubman's list has grown to include personalities such as Ms. Spears and corporate clients such as America Online, as well as dot-com companies and restaurants and nightclubs in New York, Los Angeles and Miami. She is known for attracting a hip crowd to parties, and her friends include actor Omar Epps and nightclub owner-Madonna pal Ingrid Casares.

Vying for the same business are several Manhattan-based firms, run largely by 20- and 30-something women: Harrison & Shriftman, London & Misher, Loving & Weintraub, not to mention the traditional powerhouses, such as Nadine Johnson Inc.

Enter Peggy Siegal, who throughout the 1980's and 1990's dominated the turf of New York movie premieres. Ms. Siegal's discerning taste and up-to-date mailing lists included the likes of Nora Ephron and 60 Minutes producer Don Hewitt, and, more recently, Gwyneth Paltrow's family.

But in the late 1990's, Ms. Siegal's personal hands-on style of doing business may have lost a bit of ground to the corporate-backed package deals the new P.R. firms were offering to the movie studios. This February, for example, longtime Peggy Siegal client New Line Cinema used Harrison & Shriftman to open Boiler Room in Manhattan, even though Ms. Siegal had recently been on a chartered cruise arranged by New Line chairman Robert Shaye. Asked about this during a joint phone interview, Ms. Siegal handed the phone to Ms. Grubman, who said, "From my understanding, during all that stuff, she was planning on being out of town." Ms. Grubman pointed out that they are doing another New Line premiere, Love and Basketball , in April.

"Peggy used to be the only game in town for premieres," said a former Peggy Siegal employee. "But then, when Lara Shriftman broke into doing movies, she had corporate clients like Mercedes and Motorola, so instead of the studios directly paying P.R. companies a fee, it almost changed, so all of us now pitch to studios with the underwriting of us included. You know, 'We want to do this premiere, and we have a corporate client that'll pay $40,000.'"

Meanwhile, say former members of her staff, Ms. Siegal could sometimes alienate the movie studios' in-house publicists. "She'd be working with someone, and try and go over their head," said a former employee.

Ms. Grubman handled that one, too. "Can I say something here?" she said. "Peggy's relationships go far beyond the in-house P.R. departments, so she socializes with the heads of these companies. So to say that she would go over someone's head is not really, accurately, fair."

"I have developed very strong business and social relationships with the heads of studios," said Ms. Siegal. "They call me on a regular basis to pick my brain and see what's going on around town. Just because I'm hired to work on a film doesn't mean I'm not going to speak to the head of a studio."

Ms. Siegal denied industry rumors that, prior to shaking hands with Ms. Grubman, she had been feeling out a few different firms, including Harrison & Shriftman. But, according to Elizabeth Harrison, the 34-year-old co-owner of Harrison & Shriftman, Ms. Siegal did reach out to her. "I worked for Peggy, and I have a lot of respect for Peggy," she said. "I got a call from Peggy about the second week in January. I think she was trying to explore a lot of different options … And she said, 'Would you be interested in forming something? I don't know if it's a merger, if it's a partnership, I don't know what it is. But would you want to explore that?' I said I was flattered, I didn't say Yes or No … I didn't feel right at this moment that I needed to merge with anybody, but I was flattered, I really was."

"I absolutely, categorically deny that," said Ms. Siegal. "Never happened. I never asked her over the phone if she wanted to merge with me."

Ms. Grubman's offices at 270 Lafayette Street are being renovated to accommodate Ms. Siegal, who has brought two publicists and her longtime assistant, John Medina.

Because of the renovation, Ms. Siegal balked at a reporter's request for a tour.

"Peggy, it's fine," said Ms. Grubman.

Lizzie's Hernia

On the evening of March 16, Ms. Grubman and Ms. Siegal were greeting guests at the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Temple of Dendur. The occasion was the launch of real estate magnate Andrew Farkas' building-service Web site, Edificerex.com, and Ms. Grubman had been retained to help Loving & Weintraub with the guest list. Though Ms. Siegal had been mostly uninvolved in the event's planning, the venue was classic Peggy Siegal: a cultural institution, located well above 14th Street. But the scene was of an entirely different sensibility: sushi buffets, gospel-choir entertainment and 1,400 media types in their 20's. The only apparent celebrity in view was fashion designer Mary McFadden.

At 7:30 P.M., Ms. Siegal, dressed in black pants and a shimmery suit jacket, left for the opera. Ms. Grubman, surrounded by a coterie of young friends who were sneaking cigarettes, remained behind.

"I just had surgery," said Ms. Grubman, who was wearing a black sweater tank top and black pants and was sitting on the edge of the temple's platform next to her colleague Ally B. "I had a hernia operation. The doctor says it comes from lifting or working out, neither of which I do!" She said that because of the sugary foods she had eaten while recovering in bed, she was on the Atkins diet.

Asked what she thought about having Ms. Siegal on board, Ms. B. said, "Peggy's awesome. She'll, like, stuff envelopes until 12 o'clock at night. She stays in her own little area. But sometimes she'll come into your office and be like, 'We need to talk.'"