Then, former New Jersey Senator and presidential candidate Bill Bradley ambled into the room, a perfect graham-cracker-crust for all this cheesecake. Mr. Lalli put on a big smile, thrust out his hand and, once again, looked up. "Hi, how are you Senator?" he cheerfully inquired. Mr. Bradley stared down blankly at George 's editor. He didn't seem to have a clue. "Is John Kliger here?" Mr. Bradley asked, referring to Jack Kliger, the chief executive of George 's parent company, Hachette-Filipacchi Magazines. "I want to say hello to him."

Then Mr. Bradley walked past Mr. Lalli and out onto the Hilton's patio, missing the flash of disappointment in Mr. Lalli's eyes.

Before he became the editor in chief of George , Mr. Lalli, in addition to being the managing editor of the plain vanilla Money magazine, was a president of the American Society of Magazine Editors, where he sometimes functioned as a kind of poker-faced Officer Krupke, policing the flashy Sharks and the Jets of Condé Nast, Hearst Corporation and his current employer, Hachette Filipacchi.

But as the editor in chief of George , Mr. Lalli was now going to have to dance with the Sharks and Jets. He was going to have to make himself instantly recognizable to people like Mr. Bradley, and this cocktail party was part of the gambit.

Much to the dismay of serious journalists who covered Washington, the White House Correspondents' Dinner had long enjoyed a reputation as an event where glamorous power-hungry Hollywood and powerful glamour-deficient Washington met for a mutual contact high.

For years, the gatekeeper of this annual Washington-Hollywood canoodle had been Vanity Fair 's editor in chief Graydon Carter. Mr. Carter's annual Correspondents' Dinner after-party at the Russian Trade Federation Building had been the place to be seen after each year's dinner, and was attended last year by George 's co-founder and Mr. Lalli's predecessor, John F. Kennedy Jr.

But this year, Mr. Carter had let go of the velvet rope, and Mr. Lalli and financial news mogul Michael Bloomberg had both made a grab for it (but more on that later).

Around the time that Mr. Lalli was shaking off Mr. Bradley's diss, the George cocktail party was looking a little iffy. The models were present, as the planted gossip-column items had promised, and George senior editor-celebrity wrangler Jeffrey Podolsky had scared up horn-dog George columnist Alfonse D'Amato, West Wing co-star Rob Lowe, director John Waters and his date, Patty Hearst, and The Cider House Rules co-star Tobey McGuire, who was aimlessly ambling about the party with five days worth of beard growth.

But the evening's big kahuna, Big Kahuna co-star Kevin Spacey was nowhere to be found. To make matters worse, Bill Clinton's chief economic adviser, Gene Sperling, was trying to steal away one of George 's celebrity guests. Mr. Sperling was staring deeply into the eyes of Anna And The King actress Bai Ling and trying to lure her to the rival People magazine cocktail party with him, with promises of an after-dinner tour of the real west wing of the White House.

But then Mr. Spacey sauntered into that dingy hotel room, and the flashbulbs started popping like the old John Kennedy Jr. days. Mr. Lalli, who was almost as tall as Mr. Spacey, beamed. Mr. Kliger, who had been this close to croaking George when Kennedy was alive, walked up behind him, and put a meaty paw on his shoulder. "Not bad, not bad," Mr. Kliger said into Mr. Lalli's ear. Then Mr. Kliger summoned the Transom and told Mr. Lalli a joke for the media industry's benefit.

"When he asked how long is the magazine going to last, I told him at least two or three more months," Mr. Kliger said. "That's reassuring," said Mr. Lalli, "I thought it was going to be two or three weeks." Then the two roared with laughter like a couple of old fishing buddies.

Soon after Mr. Spacey arrived, the dinner gong rang and the crowd queued up to go through the metal detectors that had been set up outside the main ballroom of the Hilton.

After dessert, Bill Clinton killed with a Lettermanesque video, produced by Everybody Loves Raymond creator Phil Rosenthal, of his waning days in the White House. The only table that seemed to be genuinely unmoved by the image of Mr. Clinton riding his bike through the White House was the table occupied by Judicial Watch's conservative guard dog Larry Klayman, who hosted cyber columnist Matt Drudge. While the audience howled, Mr. Drudge scowled in the direction of the large video monitors.

When the dinner let out, all the tuxes and gowns trudged up the hill to the white Russian Trade Federation building which was bathed in red light courtesy of Mr. Bloomberg, who had grabbed the venue when Vanity Fair opted out earlier in the spring.

But there was Mr. Lalli greeting guests in the foyer, adding to confusion over just whose party it was. George 's invitations had read, "Join the Bloomberg News party with George ," but Bloomberg's invitations mentioned nothing of the monthly. And a week before the party, when Mr. Bloomberg told the Washington Post that he'd be glad to team up with Vanity Fair in future years on the party, he didn't mention that George was a partner.

But as Mr. Lalli welcomed guests, such as Bo Derek, with smooth lines like, "We really want to write something about you," it was at least clear whose party Mr. Lalli thought it was. "Where are you from?" he asked a man with a camera who was standing next to him. "Bloomberg," the man replied. "Oh, you're one of the financial guys," he said nodding his head knowingly.

The Transom asked Mr. Lalli exactly how George and Bloomberg had divided duties on the party. "I'll be honest with you," Mr. Lalli told the Transom, "They had the venue, and we had Hollywood. It's a partnership."

The Transom tracked down Michael Bloomberg who was in deep chat with Lisa Edelstein, who made it clear to the Transom that she was not actually a prostitute, but plays one on The West Wing . When the Transom recounted Mr. Lalli's version of the arrangement, Mr. Bloomberg looked like he'd bitten into a bad almond. "They've told some people it's their party. I have heard that," Mr. Lalli said.

So, the Transom asked, did they bring all the celebs as Mr. Lalli had said? "There might have been a day when I needed that, that's not today in all fairness," Mr. Bloomberg scoffed. He paused and began to turn a little red. "I mean think about that. I mean George is not exactly a magazine that can deliver a lot."

Outside, on the building's grand antebellum veranda, Mr. Spacey was posing for pictures with eternally troubled actor Gary Busey. At one point during the evening, Mr. Busey had leaned into actor Oliver Platt and said the words that could strike fear into the heart of any young actor: "You remind me of myself when I was young." Mr. Platt just nodded and smiled.

But it was Mr. Spacey's night. He'd had a cameo in Mr. Clinton's film, in which he had tugged an Oscar statuette from Mr. Clinton's hands as the President made an acceptance speech to an empty White House audience.

Mr. Spacey was talking to Mr. Busey when White House Press Secretary Joe Lockhart walked by. Mr. Lockhart had also done a stiff little acting turn in another video, a West Wing spoof, that had played at the dinner that night.

"Joe!" Mr. Spacey called when he caught sight of Mr. Lockhart. "Joe! You've got a fucking job when you're out of there! You hit your marks! You rolled your eyes!"

Mr. Lockhart grinned sheepishly as though he were actually considering it for a moment. Then New York Times White House correspondent Marc Lacey tugged on Mr. Lockhart's tux. "Is that Christie Brinkley over there?" he asked.

"Yeah it is," said Mr. Lockhart. "You want to meet her?"

"I promise you puff pieces for the rest of the term," said Mr. Lacey.

When a young female reporter approached Mr. Spacey with a note pad, he was still going on about Mr. Lockhart. "Tell [Clinton] if he goes out to Hollywood, Joe Lockhart's going to give him a run for his money," he called out, stretching his arms and laughing wolfishly in an old-fashioned Hickey moment. When Mr. Busey failed to laugh at the line the first time, Mr. Spacey whacked him in the lapels, and repeated the line. Mr. Busey looked a tad confused but this time he laughed.

Soon, Mr. Spacey was engaged in a close chat with NYPD Blue 's newest actor, Henry Simmons, a tall handsome devil. "Are you here with anyone?" Mr. Spacey asked solicitously. "Do you maybe want to join that group over there?"

Mr. Simmons pulled his mother Aurelia through the crowd and introduced her to Mr. Spacey. She brandished a camera, which Mr. Spacey quickly scooped from her hands. He tried to snap a photo of mother and son. Nothing happened. He examined the camera, he shook it, he put his ear up to it. "Its rewinding," pronounced Mr. Spacey. "We can put some more film in it. Let's ask a photographer for a roll of film."

Mr. Spacey, who is apparently the nicest, most helpful guy in the world, did just that, and reloaded Mr. Simmons' mother's camera.

"My girlfriend's still on the couch with Bo Derek," Mr. Spacey said, apropos of nothing, to Mr. Simmons. "It's a great couch as far as I'm concerned."

The Transom went over to the couch, where sat Ms. Derek, Mr. Spacey's friend, Diane Dryer, and Mr. Lowe's wife, Sheryl Berkoff. On the back of the couch perched a spindly man in Michael Kinsley glasses whom the Transom did not recognize. "So how long have you and Kevin been together?" The Transom asked Ms. Dryer.

Before she could answer, the man, looking alarmed, spoke up. "We're just having a social talk here, so …", he said, throwing us a buzz-off look. When The Transom asked spindly guy who he was, he refused to answer. "Just please get out of here," he said.

The Transom went over and asked Mr. Spacey to identify the man who was being so protective of his girlfriend. "I think he's the entertainment editor of George ," said Mr. Spacey, still engrossed in conversation with Mr. Simmons. It was Mr. Podolsky, George 's celebrity wrangler, who shot dirty looks at us for the rest of the night.

Meanwhile, Mr. Drudge was convinced he was getting the aural version of the cold shoulder. He wandered around the terrace muttering that, after all he'd done, he wasn't popular. "I'm passing people and they're talking dirty about me," he said. He wondered why he was treated coolly when plunked down on a couch next to Jamie Rubin and Christiane Amanpour. "Cold fish!" he said of Ms. Amanpour. Mr. Drudge had perhaps forgotten that, under his tuxedo jacket, he was wearing a T-shirt that bore the famous picture of Elián González getting plucked from his closet and the caption: "Clinton's Legacy For The Children"

Justice Department antitrust chief Joel Klein seemed considerably less tense when the Transom approached him with a notepad. "Oh no, no," he said, but he was smiling. Mr. Klein seemed to be having the day of his life: His face was on every newspaper in the country as the man who cleaved Microsoft in two, and he was on the lawn deep in a heavy chat with a foxy actress named Kathleen York, who said she was about to make her debut on The West Wing .

The two seemed to have gotten along so well, that Ms. York was able to finish his sentences when Mr. Klein pulled away from her and tried to get serious for a moment. "This really has nothing to do with me," he said when we asked him about his newfound celebrity. "It has to do with …"

"… Heart and soul!" chimed in Ms. York. "This man's about heart and soul. Not about celebrity and politics!" Mr. Klein gave her a kiss on each cheek. It was 2:15 a.m. Bai Ling, Mr. Spacey and the rest of Hollywood had long gone. So had Mr. Lalli. But Mr. Sperling was still there. He stood with a group of stragglers inside the Russian Trade Federation building, taking in the last moments of this starry Clintonian night and looking like he wished it would never end.

"John had a suite of offices; I took the one closest to the hall," he said, explaining that it was his style to stay close to the newsroom. "At Money magazine, I had a desk on the news floor. I'm a hands-on editor. I prefer where I'm sitting."

According to a George source, when the senior staff of George magazine was called to a meeting with Hachette Filipacchi Magazines chief executive Jack Kliger midday on Nov. 29, the new editor, with his bushy mustache, was sprung on them. The reaction? "Oh my God, what's Frank Lalli doing sitting there?" one editor was overheard saying.

So what was Mr. Lalli doing there? "[Mr. Kliger] wanted a magazine maker. That's what I am."

Mr. Lalli, 57, has a long history as a "magazine maker." He ran Money magazine from 1989 through 1997, and had worked for the New York Daily News , House & Home , Forbes and New West –the latter under Clay Felker, a pioneer of reader-oriented service journalism. It was while working for Mr. Felker 23 years ago that he met an ad salesman for The Village Voice named Jack Kliger. He said they'd been friends ever since.

"I first started talking to Jack in the summer," Mr. Lalli said. That was shortly after Mr. Kliger took over for David Pecker, but before Kennedy died. By then, Mr. Kliger had pretty much decided to end Hachette's relationship with George. That was fine with Kennedy, who had already begun trying to find new investors, according to a publishing executive familiar with Kennedy's plans at the time.

Mr. Lalli said his conversations with Mr. Kliger had nothing to do with George. "I was talking about another start-up and some other roles I might be able to play at Hachette," he said.

Mr. Kennedy was killed in a plane crash on July 16. Soon after, Hachette decided to keep the magazine alive, but wanted to buy the shares Kennedy had controlled from his heirs. Meanwhile, they were looking for a new editor.

Just after Labor Day, Mr. Kliger and Hachette editorial director Jean-Louis Ginibre met with Newsweek 's Jonathan Alter. Mr. Alter wrote an edit plan and they talked salary, but by October Mr. Alter had decided to stay put. The whole thing got messy when Mr. Alter told the press he'd been offered the job and Hachette denied it. Hachette became gun-shy about who they talked to next. They wanted someone who wanted the job, not someone they'd woo and who might reject them at the last minute, said a source familiar with Mr. Kliger's thinking. They didn't want another Alter-esque blow-up, especially while they were still negotiating to buy the magazine from the Kennedy family.

The deal went through on Oct. 27, while the search for an editor continued. Candidates were impressed with Hachette's commitment to producing the magazine for at least two more years. Nonetheless, Newsweek international editions editor Michael Elliott also turned them down.

Re-enter Mr. Lalli. "After Jack and Hachette bought the magazine from the Kennedys, Jack called me up and said, 'I have another idea for you,'" said Mr. Lalli. Mr. Lalli said he hadn't read the magazine particularly closely, but he took home a stack over a weekend. "I got back to Jack and said, I'm interested in this … I find myself, my background and outlook on life compatible with what John Kennedy was trying to do: to help people understand who the public figures are in this country who have real political clout, and how are they using it to either serve the public or disserve it."

Sounding very much like his mentor, Mr. Felker, he said, "If you want to get this magazine down to two words, what we're doing is 'power people.'"

At Money, Mr. Lalli took a nearly crusading attitude toward his job and his readers, even testifying before Congress on issues affecting their financial well-being. His editorials had titles like, "Congress aims at lawyers and ends up shooting small investors in the back" and "What we ought to remember about the Oklahoma bombing is the heroism, not the terrorism." He said he persuaded President Clinton to veto a securities law. "I wrote five editorials that changed public policy," he said. He expects to do the same at George .

His fellow editors at Time Inc. said, however, it was that earnest spirit that ultimately doomed him in 1994, with the arrival of Norman Pearlstine. Mr. Pearlstine was looking for a magazine with an edge, and that's not what Mr. Lalli was about. He had been gunning for Mr. Lalli's Money for years and, in fact, is said to have started Smart Money while he was at The Wall Street Journal to exploit what he saw as its failings.

In 1997, Mr. Pearlstine booted him upstairs in Time Inc., after writing an editorial in Money praising him for his defense of the American consumer. Mr. Lalli stuck around until the next year. One theory has it Mr. Pearlstine didn't want the embarrassment of firing Mr. Lalli while he was president of the American Society of Magazine Editors, particularly as Mr. Lalli was doing earnest, do-good things like fighting Chrysler's attempt to get pre-approval of articles in magazines in which it advertised.

At Money, Mr. Lalli adopted the motto "Our Readers Above All," and had it mounted in brass near the office's entrance. So expect George's can-do American spirit to continue, unfettered by irony.

Will Hachette, which has had a reputation for mingling church and state, leave Mr. Lalli and his Dudley Do-Right tendencies alone? Mr. Lalli said he's not worried. "That was one regime and this is another regime," he said. "We won't have problems in that area."

The New York Post crew bid farewell to Jeane MacIntosh, Richard Johnson's No. 2 reporter at Page Six, on Nov. 29 at Langan's on West 47th Street. Ms. MacIntosh is moving to Chicago to be with her fiancée and serve as the paper's Midwest correspondent. Earlier that day, Mr. Johnson hired her replacement, Paula Froelich, who'll be coming from Dow Jones Newswires. Previous gig: Derivatives Week .

The main advantage to covering gossip as opposed to derivatives? "I'm so psyched," said Ms. Froelich, "because I'll know who the blind items are. Oh, my God, it's fabulous."

Editors Kurt Andersen and Michael Hirschorn have hired Variety news editor Chris Petrikin for their planned Insidedope.com Web site. Mr. Petrikin rose quickly at Variety : He started as editor Peter Bart's assistant five years ago and ended up covering the movie studios. He joins Craig Marks, who will oversee music industry coverage, and Lorne Manly, who oversees media coverage. Asked about the latest hire, Mr. Hirschorn continued acting as if he's involved in some top-secret mission, saying, "I just can't comment in any fashion."

For the last few months, Out president and editorial director Henry Scott has been trying to organize a "management buyout" of the troubled lesbian and gay monthly. According to a publisher he approached, the deal was structured so that a new investor would be found and he would remain in charge. Such a deal would bail out Robert Hardman, Out Publishing Inc.'s chairman, owner and chief benefactor over the years.

But that plan did not work out, and now Mr. Scott has left the magazine.

Mr. Scott, who had previously worked as a marketing executive for The New York Times and as an editor at The Hartford Courant , became president at Out after the departure of its founder, Michael Goff, in 1996. By most accounts, he cut costs and raised ad revenue. In January 1998, he oversaw a radical shift in the magazine's editorial direction. He threw out editor Sarah Pettit and replaced her with a flashy British fellow, James Collard. Mr. Collard lasted about a year, then left mysteriously. Next, Mr. Scott himself took over as editorial director.

Circulation fell to 115,000 by the most recent audit in June 30, 1999, down from a high of 134,700 in 1997, the final year of Ms. Pettit's tenure. Out 's competitor, The Advocate , has 83,000 paying readers.

One publisher the magazine approached about buying Out said the magazine was about $5 million in debt. That fact, combined with the proposed deal's stipulation that Mr. Scott would remain in charge, blocked the deal.

When reached at home, Mr. Scott refused to comment. But in an e-mail sent out to friends and business acquaintances, he wrote of his Out days: "It was a tenure marked by more than its fair share of problems and controversies, the latter of which I admit to sometimes creating and always reveling in." He also said he's writing a book and will be consulting at Out and Nest , an interior decorating magazine.

Steve Pippin, the magazine's executive vice president and general manager, will now serve as Out 's president. Executive editor Tom Beer will oversee the editorial side for the time being.

Out spokesman Alberto Rojas said "several parties" are looking at the magazine. "We'll hopefully close a deal in the new year," he said. He refused to comment on the magazine's debt or who the suitors are.