Gianni Russo, a k a Connie’s husband. (Photo by Steve Barkaszi.)

Walk down Manhattan’s 52nd Street today, and you’ll find few clues that the strip was once a jazz center of New York. Billie Holiday, Miles Davis, Frank Sinatra—all the greats performed here in the ’30s, ’40s and ’50s, in jazz clubs that have since been replaced by Starbucks and glass office buildings.

Wednesday evenings in The Four Seasons Restaurant’s Grill Room, however, Gianni Russo is trying to bring this Golden Age back to life. The flamboyant Mr. Russo—known for playing Carlo Rizzi in The Godfather (“You bastard. You hurt my sister again and I’ll kill you.”)—is also an accomplished singer. For the past two weeks, Mr. Russo has performed a 40-song set for the restaurant’s Wednesday evening crowd, covering classics he once heard Sinatra and others perform live in the 52nd Street clubs.

“We’re going to revive what 52nd Street was,” Mr. Russo told the Transom. “It was the hottest place in New York, long before you were born. Tony Bennett, Nat King Cole—I mean, everybody played this street. When you hear my show, I’ll describe it all.”

Elegantly coiffed patrons—many from the ranks of New York’s business elite—began arriving around 7:30 p.m. to hear Mr. Russo croon. Catalog magnate Lillian Hochberg (of Lillian Vernon) and Sam Waksal, Martha Stewart’s insider trading pal, were spotted separately in the crowd.

But before Mr. Russo had even taken the stage, Four Seasons co-owner Julian Niccolini was already performing. He kissed his longtime patrons—“my regulars,” he called them—before leading them to their tables. He doted on them lavishly, refusing to let them speak of food until they’d at least had a bottle of pink champagne. It didn’t take us long to see that the Grill Room is not so much a restaurant as it is an exclusive club, with Mr. Niccolini serving as its gregarious godfather.

“If Gianni’s no good, we’ll cut his throat,” Mr. Niccolini joked.

As soon as Mr. Russo started singing, accompanied by a four-piece band, it was clear he would survive the night. Some couples danced to his vocal stylings, while others took breaks from their tuna tartare and hamachi ceviche to offer enthusiastic applause. Everyone seemed thrilled by Mr. Russo’s covers of classics like Sinatra’s “The Lady Is a Tramp” and “New York, New York.”

“I think he’s amazing!” gushed Maggie Rady, who told the Transom she’s been dating Mr. Russo for six years. “I’m here every Wednesday!” Ms. Rady was seated at a corner table with some of Mr. Russo’s close friends—an eclectic crew that included a urologist, a restaurateur and a Serbian model.

Radio veteran Bill O’Shaughnessy, who runs Whitney Radio when he (and his magnificent hair) are not circling the New York party scene, was equally thrilled with Mr. Russo’s performance.

“He’s the greatest performer in New York,” Mr. O’Shaughnessy stated. “So many other performers just emote—it’s all about them. Gianni wants to make sure that everybody’s having a good time.”

And it was, indeed, a good time. Mr. Niccolini glided around the room, tipping oysters into patrons’ open mouths and inviting the lucky ones into the kitchen to make the restaurant’s signature cotton candy with one of the pastry chefs. Mr. Russo amicably chatted with guests between songs.

At the end of the night, the Transom was reluctant to step back into the reality of present-day 52nd Street. Luckily, a longtime New Yorker at the table next to us offered an uplifting thought.

“You want to know when the Golden Age is?” he asked. “The Golden Age is now.”

It seems that Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony's Valentine's Day gift to each other will be a divorce. [Gatecrasher]

A currently "really out of it" Bernard Madoff may be planning an insanity defense. [R&M]

Former ImClone CEO Sam Waksal, who was supposed to spend seven years in prison for his role in Martha Stewart's insider trading scandal, faked a drinking problem to shave time of his sentence. [P6]

Tom Brady's father is denying reports that his son is engaged to Gisele Bundchen. [People]

According to the deed, he paid $7 million for the 5,800-square-foot apartment, $495,000 less than the latest asking price.

Marvin and Susan Numeroff, who bought the place from Mr. Waksal for $6.5 million in May of 2004 were the sellers. The apartment had been on and off the market since that purchase.

A source close to this deal said it was complicated by the ImClone boss’ murky legacy. “A lot of his work was done illegally,” said the source. “Every time you’ve had bad things done to an apartment, you inherit them.”

That skullduggery includes a secret passageway.

“There was an illegal staircase installed that went up to the roof terrace,” the source said. “According to code, it was completely out of whack, so it had to be sealed off behind Sheetrock. You couldn’t even see it.”

Listing broker Pat Dugan was more upbeat about the triplex’s history and its perks, like a kitchen “with a balcony overlooking it.”

A balcony?

“There was an opening that was created on the stairs that led up to the top floor,” she said. “It was like a window, really. I guess Waksal did it.”

Despite Mr. Waksal’s apparent fondness for renovation, the Numeroffs had even bigger plans.

“Supposedly, they had literally wanted to tear the whole thing down, and to build it all from scratch,” said our source on the deal. “The board declined. They didn’t want to live with a three-year renovation.”

The buyer’s broker was Leonard Steinberg, who would not comment for this story. And Mr. Agarwal, who runs real-estate-related advisory services for Blackstone, did not return calls to his office.

(As luck would have it, Blackstone co-founder Pete Peterson briefly served on ImClone’s board.)

Mr. Agarwal’s new penthouse has a private foyer that leads into a 47-and-a-half-foot-long living room, which eventually leads into a master bedroom with cherry-wood closets, four skylights, a terrace and a steam shower.

The Numeroffs are leaving all that behind for a mid-19th-century brownstone on West 23rd, which they bought in August for $4,975,000.

The octogenarian Mr. Numeroff was the president of Brooklyn’s Universal Diagnostic Laboratories, which folded this year. Back in 1988, he and his firm were accused of dumping blood vials contaminated with hepatitis B. (The incriminating trash bags, found in Flatbush, also had urine and sperm samples, loose needles, plus a scalpel.)

Mr. Numeroff was reportedly arrested and charged with misdemeanors.

Mr. Waksal didn’t get off so easily: After pleading guilty to insider trading, securities fraud and tax evasion, he was sentenced in June 2003 to an 87-month sentence at the federal Otisville Correctional Facility.

There are probably no steam showers in Otisville. But he can hope for a secret stairway.

Sheila Johnson in Suite Deal At St. Regis: $1.44 M.

Sheila Crump Johnson, founder of the BET television network, has bought a deluxe suite in the St. Regis Hotel for just above $1.44 million.

The 523-square-foot palace, which was first listed for $2.118 million, is one of the 24 residences being sold at the Fifth Avenue landmark.

Ms. Johnson’s apartment is essentially just a bedroom, but what a bedroom it is!

According to a sales booklet, there’s a “silk-draped king bed,” plus “fabrics in muted shades of silver-pale green and steel blue,” chosen by the celebrated interior designer firm Sills Huniford.

The St. Regis pad also has a custom-built hideaway flat-screen television, plus a TV in the marble bathroom.

Appropriately, each apartment comes with a butler’s pantry, plus a five-fixture bath.

Despite those attractions, it’s not likely that Ms. Johnson will be spending much time in the hotel.

For one thing, Ms. Johnson, the first African-American woman to become a billionaire, owns a century-old Virginia estate named Salamander Farm.

For another, the St. Regis residential-use plan limits owners to only 182 days in their apartments.

Ms. Johnson could not be reached at her office. Likewise, representatives of the internal St. Regis listing broker, SVO Residents Club, would not comment. Corcoran’s Sunshine Group began marketing the hotel’s 24 residences (plus 22 fractional units) this February, though SVO took over six months later.

According to the Manhattan database RealPlus, 15 of the 24 residences are still on the market.

Rockstar-Wrangler Ankles Flatiron

Rock ’n’ roll manager extraordinaire Merck Mercuriadis has flipped his block-spanning loft at Fifth Avenue and 17th Street.

City records list the buyer as Ian Peck and the selling price as $4.366 million.

Mr. Mercuriadis and his wife Susan paid $4 million for the apartment only last year. But Union Square life didn’t suit the father of four—who manages Elton John, Guns N’ Roses and the pompadoured pop genius Morrissey.

What was wrong with the 6,000-square-foot place? He complained that his kids could slip out the building’s 18th Street backdoor before family dinnertime.

The solution: “We’ve moved to Los Angeles, where you can have a little more control of your children. Everything is driving distance.”

But there was a more romantic rationale for what Mr. Mercuriadis calls his disconnection from the apartment. He had pined to build a glassed soundproof music room for his 100,000 albums, but zoning laws got in the way.

“Music is always on in the house. And it’s always on at volume,” he explained. “Ultimately, the loft space wasn’t conducive to that.”

Why? “With four children, you’ve got four TV’s going on at any one time.”

As recompense, the full-floor loft has a chef’s kitchen with commercial appliances, north and west views, plus oversized windows facing south.

Along with his migration to California, Mr. Mercuriadis is reportedly leaving his job at the Sanctuary management group. But he promised that Guns N’ Roses’ legendarily long-awaited album will be out by Christmas.

His broker, Tom Wexler, didn’t return calls to his office, and Mr. Peck could not be reached.

E*Trade Founder Sells for $6.05 M.

E*Trade founder William Porter has sold his three-bedroom apartment at the bullion-colored Trump International to filmmaker Dounia Benjelloun.

According to city records, she paid $6.05 million for Mr. Porter’s condo, the second in the building for the daughter of big-time Moroccan banker Othman Benjelloun.

Trump broker Susan James wouldn’t comment on the deal, though the original listing describes a marble-floored entry foyer and crown molding throughout the 2,165-square-foot apartment.

Mr. Porter couldn’t be reached through E*Trade (which he founded in 1992) or through his newer firm International Securities Exchange.

But according to the I.S.E. Web site, Mr. Porter is a rabid inventor: Among other things, he patented the “first shoulder-mounted backpack broadcast color TV camera.”

The listing described his apartment as “tastefully decorated with contemporary furnishings in earth tone palette.” Quite a contrast to the very un-earthy aesthetics of Trump International, which Philip Johnson helped convert into a turgidly posh hotel and condo in the 90’s.

Ms. Benjelloun’s new 29th-floor apartment has lofty city and park views—loftier than the views from her old apartment on the 23rd floor.

“That’s what I like—the light and the Central Park view,” she said. “In [the old] one I had a corner view. It was good, but now I’m right in front of the park.”

City records show that she bought her first apartment in the building in 1999, which is also when the Porters bought their apartment. On the sales deed, the Porters’ address is listed in Portola, Calif.

According to the deed, he paid $7 million for the 5,800-square-foot apartment, $495,000 less than the latest asking price.

Marvin and Susan Numeroff, who bought the place from Mr. Waksal for $6.5 million in May of 2004 were the sellers. The apartment had been on and off the market since that purchase.

A source close to this deal said it was complicated by the ImClone boss’ murky legacy. “A lot of his work was done illegally,” said the source. “Every time you’ve had bad things done to an apartment, you inherit them.”

That skullduggery includes a secret passageway.

“There was an illegal staircase installed that went up to the roof terrace,” the source said. “According to code, it was completely out of whack, so it had to be sealed off behind Sheetrock. You couldn’t even see it.”

Listing broker Pat Dugan was more upbeat about the triplex’s history and its perks, like a kitchen “with a balcony overlooking it.”

A balcony?

“There was an opening that was created on the stairs that led up to the top floor,” he said. “It was like a window, really. I guess Waksal did it.”

Despite Mr. Waksal’s apparent fondness for renovation, the Numeroffs had even bigger plans.

“Supposedly, they had literally wanted to tear the whole thing down, and to build it all from scratch,” said our source on the deal. “The board declined. They didn’t want to live with a three-year renovation.”

The buyer’s broker was Leonard Steinberg, who would not comment for this story. And Mr. Agarwal, who runs real-estate-related advisory services for Blackstone, did not return calls to his office.

(As luck would have it, Blackstone co-founder Pete Peterson briefly served on ImClone’s board.)

Mr. Agarwal’s new penthouse has a private foyer that leads into a 47-and-a-half-foot-long living room, which eventually leads into a master bedroom with cherry-wood closets, four skylights, a terrace and a steam shower.

The Numeroffs are leaving all that behind for a mid-19th-century brownstone on West 23rd, which they bought in August for $4,975,000.

The octogenarian Mr. Numeroff was the president of Brooklyn’s Universal Diagnostic Laboratories, which folded this year. Back in 1988, he and his firm were accused of dumping blood vials contaminated with hepatitis B. (The incriminating trash bags, found in Flatbush, also had urine and sperm samples, loose needles, plus a scalpel.)

Mr. Numeroff was reportedly arrested and charged with misdemeanors.

Mr. Waksal didn’t get off so easily: After pleading guilty to insider trading, securities fraud and tax evasion, he was sentenced in June 2003 to an 87-month sentence at the federal Otisville Correctional Facility.

There are probably no steam showers in Otisville. But he can hope for a secret stairway.

Sheila Johnson in Suite Deal At St. Regis: $1.44 M.

Sheila Crump Johnson, founder of the BET television network, has bought a deluxe suite in the St. Regis Hotel for just above $1.44 million.

The 523-square-foot palace, which was first listed for $2.118 million, is one of the 24 residences being sold at the Fifth Avenue landmark.

Ms. Johnson’s apartment is essentially just a bedroom, but what a bedroom it is!

According to a sales booklet, there’s a “silk-draped king bed,” plus “fabrics in muted shades of silver-pale green and steel blue,” chosen by the celebrated interior designer firm Sills Huniford.

The St. Regis pad also has a custom-built hideaway flat-screen television, plus a TV in the marble bathroom.

Appropriately, each apartment comes with a butler’s pantry, plus a five-fixture bath.

Despite those attractions, it’s not likely that Ms. Johnson will be spending much time in the hotel.

For one thing, Ms. Johnson, the first African-American woman to become a billionaire, owns a century-old Virginia estate named Salamander Farm.

For another, the St. Regis residential-use plan limits owners to only 182 days in their apartments.

Ms. Johnson could not be reached at her office. Likewise, representatives of the internal St. Regis listing broker, SVO Residents Club, would not comment. Corcoran’s Sunshine Group began marketing the hotel’s 24 residences (plus 22 fractional units) this February, though SVO took over six months later.

According to the Manhattan database RealPlus, 15 of the 24 residences are still on the market.

Rockstar-Wrangler Ankles Flatiron

Rock ’n’ roll manager extraordinaire Merck Mercuriadis has flipped his block-spanning loft at Fifth Avenue and 17th Street.

City records list the buyer as Ian Peck and the selling price as $4.366 million.

Mr. Mercuriadis and his wife Susan paid $4 million for the apartment only last year. But Union Square life didn’t suit the father of four—who manages Elton John, Guns N’ Roses and the pompadoured pop genius Morrissey.

What was wrong with the 6,000-square-foot place? He complained that his kids could slip out the building’s 18th Street backdoor before family dinnertime.

The solution: “We’ve moved to Los Angeles, where you can have a little more control of your children. Everything is driving distance.”

But there was a more romantic rationale for what Mr. Mercuriadis calls his disconnection from the apartment. He had pined to build a glassed soundproof music room for his 100,000 albums, but zoning laws got in the way.

“Music is always on in the house. And it’s always on at volume,” he explained. “Ultimately, the loft space wasn’t conducive to that.”

Why? “With four children, you’ve got four TV’s going on at any one time.”

As recompense, the full-floor loft has a chef’s kitchen with commercial appliances, north and west views, plus oversized windows facing south.

Along with his migration to California, Mr. Mercuriadis is reportedly leaving his job at the Sanctuary management group. But he promised that Guns N’ Roses’ legendarily long-awaited album will be out by Christmas.

His broker, Tom Wexler, didn’t return calls to his office, and Mr. Peck could not be reached.

E*Trade Founder Sells for $6.05 M.

E*Trade founder William Porter has sold his three-bedroom apartment at the bullion-colored Trump International to filmmaker Dounia Benjelloun.

According to city records, she paid $6.05 million for Mr. Porter’s condo, the second in the building for the daughter of big-time Moroccan banker Othman Benjelloun.

Trump broker Susan James wouldn’t comment on the deal, though the original listing describes a marble-floored entry foyer and crown molding throughout the 2,165-square-foot apartment.

Mr. Porter couldn’t be reached through E*Trade (which he founded in 1992) or through his newer firm International Securities Exchange.

But according to the I.S.E. Web site, Mr. Porter is a rabid inventor: Among other things, he patented the “first shoulder-mounted backpack broadcast color TV camera.”

The listing described his apartment as “tastefully decorated with contemporary furnishings in earth tone palette.” Quite a contrast to the very un-earthy aesthetics of Trump International, which Philip Johnson helped convert into a turgidly posh hotel and condo in the 90’s.

Ms. Benjelloun’s new 29th-floor apartment has lofty city and park views—loftier than the views from her old apartment on the 23rd floor.

“That’s what I like—the light and the Central Park view,” she said. “In [the old] one I had a corner view. It was good, but now I’m right in front of the park.”

City records show that she bought her first apartment in the building in 1999, which is also when the Porters bought their apartment. On the sales deed, the Porters’ address is listed in Portola, Calif.

The city's Economic Development Corporation (E.D.C.) is eyeing Memorial Park, which sits under a large white tent on the corner of East 30th Street and the F.D.R. Drive. Most of the tent is occupied by refrigerated trailers that hold unidentified body parts found at the World Trade Center site-11,499 of these painful relics. The indoor park, which Mayor Michael Bloomberg dedicated at the end of 2002, is lined with shrines to the dead.

After the attacks, the parking lot behind the medical examiner's office became an impromptu morgue, and family members turned it into a makeshift memorial. Memorial Park, Mr. Bloomberg said at its dedication, would provide "someplace serene and secure and respectful for contemplation and remembrance."

But in the years before Sept. 11, 2001, the parking lot was the subject of negotiations between the city and New York University, which hoped to create a $500 million East River Science Park, including a huge biotechnology center. The lead tenant was to be ImClone Systems, whose founder, Sam Waksal, is now serving seven years in a federal prison on insider-trading charges.

The E.D.C., which conducts the city's real-estate business, is undeterred by Mr. Waksal's troubles and by the site's somber new use. The agency is aiming to revive that project, according to the E.D.C. document.

The document is an "RFP Checklist" for a planned East River Science Park. Dated Feb. 6, 2004, it lays out a nine-week timetable for issuing a Request for Proposals (R.F.P.) to develop the site.

"Do not reveal all negatives in RFP text," the unsigned document advises, after listing some of those negatives: squatters, garbage and "serenity park," another name for the memorial site.

The three-page document makes no mention of public pledges by city officials, who have promised to keep Memorial Park open "as long as it takes" to test all identifiable remains, and who have also promised to leave the park standing at least until a memorial at Ground Zero is completed.

Michael Sherman, the spokesman for E.D.C. president Andrew Alper, distanced the agency from the memo.

"That was a personal note written by a staff member that was completely inappropriate," he said. He declined to comment on whether the staffer would face disciplinary action. "That does not reflect the view of E.D.C. or the administration," he said.

The plans-and the absence of a commitment to retain the memorial-came as a surprise to relatives of the victims.

"If they propose to relocate, move or toss aside any of those remains, they will be met with extreme, heavy resistance," said John Cartier, who lost his brother in the attack.

But Mr. Sherman denied the agency is considering displacing the memorial.

"The administration is committed to keeping the remains of the victims at the site until a permanent memorial at the Trade Center is complete," he said.

The E.D.C. has long had a reputation for secrecy, although that has abated under Mayor Bloomberg. These days, for instance, notices of public meetings are actually posted on the agency's Web site, not buried in small-type newspaper advertisements. But the agency was created as a quasi-private local development corporation in order to make economic development deals without getting snared in government red tape, and a private-sector focus on speed and secrecy can conflict with public-sector standards of transparency. "E.D.C. should not be in the business of hiding information to suit its purposes," said Stephen Sigmund, the spokesman for City Council Speaker Gifford Miller.

The controversy underscores the political danger still involved in touching the sites and issues that Sept. 11 made sacred. Builders at Ground Zero have been forced to work around the "footprints" of the two towers. And the Memorial Park site is certainly among those newly sacred spots. A 2,000-square-foot room within the larger tent, its high ceiling is formed by opaque white drapes. Low tables along the walls hold photographs, stuffed animals, flags and letters to dead relatives, many of them among the 1,198 victims whose bodies still haven't been identified. There's also a book for visitors to write in. There's an entry for April 8, from a parent to a son:

"While you are no longer here, we are still attached to this memorial where you spent so much time before we brought you home."

The park is formally open only to families, but a reporter was able to visit one recent afternoon, walking down a closed street, past a homeless shelter and rows of parked city-owned cars.

The memorial is an ambiguous blend of permanent and temporary, with big wooden doors set in a white plastic tent, and its opening did little to resolve that ambiguity. Officials gave no timeline for its closure, and the chief medical examiner, Dr. Charles Hirsch, made the following pledge in a press release on Dec. 23, 2002: "We remain committed to the families of these victims that we will do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes, to identify as many people as the limits of science will allow. While this process continues, we hope this park will serve as a welcoming environment where families can gather and pay their respects."

No Long-Term Plans

One city official involved in planning the memorial said there had been no internal discussion of how long Memorial Park would stand.

"We saw this as a solution to a problem that existed then," the official said, referring to the families drawn to the barren parking lot. "I don't know that we were thinking four, five, six years down the road."

A spokeswoman for the medical examiner, Ellen Borakove, said that work will continue to identify the victims using DNA and other technologies. But the fires that raged at Ground Zero for weeks after the attack severely damaged many of the remains.

The remains will "be there until the final memorial is built at Ground Zero," she said. "Those that still are with us will be transferred down to the permanent memorial site."

The medical examiner is seeking to ensure that technicians will still have access to the badly damaged remains in case future technologies make it possible to identify them, she said.

A spokeswoman for the Lower Manhattan Development Corporation, Joanna Rose, said she hadn't heard of the 30th Street site and said there was no timetable for the memorial's completion. The agency hopes construction will begin early next year, she said.

While the E.D.C.'s plans may distress the medical examiner and family members, some local residents would like to remove the refrigerated trailers and reopen the street, and community-board members expressed interest in the science park at a meeting with E.D.C. officials at Assemblyman Steven Sanders' office last month.

"We would like to see 30th Street reopened and remapped," said Timothy McGinn, the chairman of Community Board 6. "I would think that could be done as part and parcel of this development."

As for Memorial Park, another person present at the meeting said its future "didn't come up as an issue."

American Sucker , by David Denby. Little, Brown, 337 pages, $24.95.

Now that the shell shock has worn off and we're unhappily accustomed to the nonstop barrage of first-person testimony-autobiography these days being the default mode for anybody who feels the itch to write-the appearance of yet another disappointing memoir only triggers a knee-jerk urge to blame the genre. Isn't it time to impose a ban? Or at least quality controls: No spilling of your life onto the page unless you're certifiably great (Hector Berlioz, say, or Ben Franklin) or exceptional (Helen Keller, Christy Brown) or a writer of supreme talent (Vladimir Nabokov, Doris Lessing). Most memoirs are marred by obvious suppressions, or by a splatter of embarrassingly candid detail, and either way the ubiquitous "I" is an irritant: It clamors for our attention, our sympathy, it asks us to shed a part of our precious individuality and identify . We can surrender to these demands or resist-and shamefully reveal the stubbornness with which we defend our own slice of personal space.

Blaming the genre is a satisfyingly impersonal response to the ego-glut, but soon we bump up against the incontrovertible fact that any given memoir is more than just a symptom of our enduring culture of narcissism. Open the book and there's the "I"-a little prod, reminding us that someone in particular made the choice about what secrets to share, what private thoughts to parade in public. In this case, the "I" belongs to David Denby, the longtime New York magazine film critic who graduated in 1998 to The New Yorker . Mr. Denby has decided to follow up his best-selling memoir Great Books (1996)-an account of a year spent re-reading the classics of Western civilization-with the sadder story of his brief, miserable career as an amateur investor speculating in the stock market.

American Sucker is actually a more local story than its excellent title would suggest. Mr. Denby grew up in New York, studied at Columbia (twice!) and eventually settled with his wife, the novelist Cathleen Schine, in a seven-room apartment on the corner of 76th and West End. The apartment-where the couple raised their two sons-is, in a sense, at the center of this book. When Ms. Schine announced in early 1999 that she was leaving Mr. Denby after 18 years of marriage, he decided that he didn't want to move out. He had some money tucked away (he'd inherited $325,000 from his mother in 1991), and he hatched a plan to ride the surging Nasdaq, make $1 million and buy out his wife's share of the apartment. You can guess the rest: Instead of making a million, he lost a million-and had to settle for less spacious living quarters.

The Schine-Denby breakup is getting plenty of ink this month. In a confessional aside in her long New Yorker "Personal History"-about a mad dog she owned for 18 months-Ms. Schine explains that she left Mr. Denby for another woman: "I had made one of those unforeseen middle-aged discoveries." Mr. Denby makes frequent mention of Ms. Schine in his memoir, but never says why she left him; instead he buries a clue on page 317: "Cathy was finishing a novel, her sixth, in which a woman leaves her husband for another woman."

There's another story (also local) nestled alongside the sad real-estate saga: At some point (the exact chronology is not specified), Mr. Denby decided that he would write a book about his adventures in the market. He tells us that he began keeping a journal in January 2000-recording the state of his finances and also "anything that seemed joined to the obsession of the moment, which, as anyone could see, was money." And we know that he began interviewing investment gurus and attending investors' conferences: He met Henry Blodget and Sam Waksal and George Gilder in the year when the Nasdaq reached 5,000, when all three were still heroes to a growing flock of giddy investors. He became friends with Messrs. Blodget and Waksal; he secured an interview with Arthur Levitt, who was then the chairman of the S.E.C. (In this city, access is not a problem when you're on the staff of The New Yorker and almost everyone recognizes your name from 20 years of movie reviews.) He visited companies and traveled to conventions. The making of the memoir is itself an important part of the narrative-the mechanics of the interviews, the locations, the mood of our intrepid reporter as he prepared for each new encounter.

The best parts of American Sucker are the vivid portraits of Messrs. Blodget and Waksal. As Mr. Denby gets to know them, so does the reader. They develop complex personalities, they evolve-like characters in a good novel. First glimpsed onstage at an investors' conference, Henry Blodget is the stock analyst as celebrity: "He smiled nervously as people grabbed his hand. Many wanted to touch, to come close. An interesting face: There was something mysterious in the long plane between his eyes and his jaw, something unfinished." There's room already for the duplicity that would later emerge, and room, too, for an "awkward and charming smile."

Entertaining his A-list friends in his loft on Thompson Street, Sam Waksal is more than just a medical entrepreneur who struck it rich. He's a charismatic host and a kind of Renaissance man: "There was merriment in his eyes, an invitation to the fun of enterprise, and, matched to that, an invitation to talk over an idea-any idea in the world. His appetite was irresistible." (So, apparently, was the lure of ImClone stock: Like Martha Stewart, Mr. Denby was a shareholder.)

Even after his "wayward friends" are caught up in scandal-Mr. Blodget fined and banned from Wall Street, Mr. Waksal packed off to jail-they're never mere villains. When Mr. Denby finally has to face the fact that Mr. Blodget is "a guy who mainly wanted to maximize his compensation," the realization "hurt like hell." After going to watch Mr. Waksal plead guilty to six federal charges, including bank fraud and securities fraud, Mr. Denby "walked away from the courthouse in tears."

The worst parts of American Sucker are about David Denby. Whatever happened to shame? Perhaps we're meant to admire his honesty, the complete candor with which he reveals his foolishness; perhaps we're meant to learn from his mistakes. But in what way is it instructive, or even entertaining, to read that in mid-1999, for a six-week period, Mr. Denby became obsessed with Internet porn? Or that he cured the insomnia brought on by his market anxieties with a cocktail of Xanax and NyQuil? Or that he repeatedly conned himself into believing that he'd found true love with a new woman? ("We greeted each other like long-lost friends who were astonished by their good luck in finding each other after so many missing years. Where have you been all this time? It was as if we had known each other in the past, in some earlier existence.") Or that 9/11 was his personal wake-up call: "I knew I couldn't be quite as passive as I was before September 11."

His biggest blunder was his investment strategy: all tech, all the time. He stuck to it despite his professed ignorance ("I wasn't lazy, exactly, but at some level, I thought the study of fundamentals was a waste of time"); despite the warnings of his New Yorker colleague, financial journalist John Cassidy (who told him bluntly in February 2000, "You're going to lose your money") and Mr. Levitt (who explained patiently that Nasdaq prices were "out of line with value"); and despite the fact that, all along, Mr. Denby was reading Robert J. Shiller and Thorstein Veblen and presumably thinking- really thinking -about the nation's obsession with money. Everyone makes mistakes; not everyone insists on broadcasting them. In the absence of shame, let's at least have modesty.

Mr. Denby is a capable writer. The problem here is not the author's prose but his judgment, which is serially bad (an alarming failure in a critic). He is indeed a sucker-how else could he have conceived that this dismal book would ever earn a "buy" rating?

Adam Begley is the books editor of The Observer .

About those facts: Yes, Ms. Stewart sold almost 4,000 shares of ImClone on Dec. 27, the day before the Food and Drug Administration rejected ImClone's application for a cancer drug. Yes, the biotechnology company's chief executive officer and controlling shareholder was Samuel Waksal, a close friend of Ms. Stewart's, who himself was arrested this month on insider-trading charges. And yes, it does look bad for anyone connected to Mr. Waksal, whose family also sold ImClone stock during this period. But it is grossly unfair to put Ms. Stewart in the same category with sleazebags like Boesky, Milken and now Winnick and Waksal. Whether Ms. Stewart is or is not guilty of insider trading, she has been robbed of the benefit of the doubt and convicted in the press before she has had a chance to defend herself.

Section 10b-5 of the Securities and Exchange Act of 1934 states that insider trading is a felony for which you can go to jail-but only if you are found to be guilty beyond a reasonable doubt . In a civil suit, the bar is lower: A finding of liability requires merely a preponderance of evidence. From what is publicly known about Ms. Stewart's sale of ImClone, there is significant reasonable doubt in her favor. For example, to take just one possible scenario, let's suppose that Ms. Stewart's broker at Merrill Lynch, Peter Bacanovic, received a call from Mr. Waksal, who told him about the F.D.A.'s imminent announcement that the drug would not be approved. And suppose that Mr. Bacanovic did not tell Ms. Stewart about the F.D.A. finding, but only that it was time to do some year-end selling for tax purposes, and that he'd recommend selling ImClone-trying to show his clients he's just a very clever broker and very wired in. If that were the case-that neither Mr. Waksal nor another insider nor her broker tipped Ms. Stewart off about the F.D.A. ruling-she's in the clear, and there would be a very strong case for her innocence.

And while it now appears that there was no logged stop-loss order, frequently a client will give a broker a verbal stop-loss, which means that the broker has to keep an eye on the price of the stock, and when it falls beneath a specified price, he proceeds to sell it. Or Ms. Stewart may indeed have placed a stop-loss order and Mr. Bacanovic chose not to log it, believing he would get a better execution if he just watched the price of the stock, and if it dipped below the target price, he would sell. In any case, let's remember that this broker from Merrill Lynch, who has been put on administrative leave, will clearly be given immunity and then be expected to testify against his client-if for no other reason than to save his backside.

But newspapers and TV reporters are skipping over any reasonable doubt and are piling on, giving Ms. Stewart more coverage than Enron and Andersen put together. Remember Gary Winnick, the C.E.O. of Global Crossing who sat at Michael Milken's feet for years and who sold more than a half a billion dollars of Global Crossing common stock while the company was going down the toilet-where are those indictments and collateral media coverage?

Meanwhile, Ms. Stewart's true guilt or innocence appears to be secondary to the frenzy accompanying her every move. Congress and the Securities and Exchange Commission are looking into all of Mr. Waksal's business dealings following his indictment, and will presumably shed further light on all the ImClone trades. If Ms. Stewart is implicated in insider trading, justice will take its course. If she is exonerated, one wonders how much ink her current accusers will spill in her favor.

America Fails Its Children

The numbers are shocking: A recent study shows that nearly 15 percent of American children live in poverty-the highest percentage in the Western world. In France, only about 3 percent of children are poor; in Sweden, just over 1 percent. The U.S. figures are a national disgrace and a sign of profound failure on the part of former President Bill Clinton and now George W. Bush to address the suffering of America's children. Making matters worse is the current economic climate: Higher unemployment likely will lead to a higher percentage of poor children as low-wage workers lose their jobs.

Politicians like to talk about their concern for children. President Bush campaigned on the promise that he would leave no child behind, but he doesn't seem particularly outraged by the stunning number of poor children in our midst. Our elected officials in Washington, D.C., may have made matters worse when they abolished the decades-old welfare-entitlement policy, pushing poor parents into the work force. For some, the change was a success. For others, the end of welfare as we knew it means an even grimmer existence as low-wage jobs dry up.

Other countries practice what we merely preach. If we cannot match the low child-poverty numbers of France or Sweden, surely we could do as well as Canada, where about 9 percent of children are poor, or Great Britain, just over 8 percent. Reducing child poverty ought to be Mr. Bush's top domestic priority. We claim to be a generous nation. But our poverty-stricken children suggest that we are not nearly as generous as we could be, and stand as a rebuke to our self-satisfied status as a modern, civilized country.

On the evening of Dec. 6, ImClone's chief executive, Sam Waksal, 54, threw his annual Christmas party at the 5,000-square-foot Thompson Street loft that he calls home. Daily News owner Mort Zuckerman was in attendance, as well as former New York Times executive editor Abe Rosenthal and art dealer Larry Gagosian. Film producer Keith Barish put in a brief appearance, as did CNN correspondent Serena Altschul. Publicists Peggy Siegal and Bobby Zarem came, as did former Spy magazine investor Jean Pigozzi, who brought Mick Jagger with him.

Midway through the soiree, one guest came across home mogul Martha Stewart. Ms. Stewart, who is a longtime friend of Mr. Waksal's-her daughter Alexis had dated him briefly, and at one point she had even been romantically linked to the Ph.D.-was sitting on the floor, her back against a radiator and looking rather wan. For a woman who was "always at the center of everything," the sight of Ms. Stewart on her can seemed rather odd.

Within a few weeks, Mr. Waksal would be on his ass, too. On Dec. 28, the Food and Drug Administration refused ImClone's application to market Erbitux because of questions regarding the drug's testing. In a little more than a month, the company's stock price would plummet nearly 80 percent, costing investors an estimated $4 billion. Mr. Waksal's alleged 11th-hour trades in his own stock would provoke a Congressional probe and more than a dozen lawsuits. The Securities and Exchange Commission and the Justice Department would also launch investigations into ImClone.

Mr. Waksal has fallen hard, but he hasn't fallen as far as someone else in his precarious position. And observers of the doe-eyed scientist chalk up a good deal of Mr. Waksal's buoyancy to his ability to charm and cultivate a remarkable cross-section of the city's power structure. Though Mr. Waksal resembles a balding Ichabod Crane in a baseball hat, his friends and acquaintances inevitably talk about how charming and intelligent he is, as well as his penchant for dating high-profile women. According to friends of Mr. Waksal, they have included active Democrat Patricia Duff, writer Lally Weymouth and Cheryl Gordon, the widow of the late real-estate mogul Edward Gordon.

In his Zelig-like way, Mr. Waksal has woven together so many different relationships-business, personal, romantic and occasionally all of the above-that it has functioned as a kind of social safety net in his time of crisis. "I'm sure there are people who think he's a complete rogue," said one friend of Mr. Waksal's. "But I know a lot of people whose opinion I respect who think he got the shaft."

Friends of Sam

Who does Mr. Waksal know? One acquaintance categorized the spectrum this way: "Bimbos, intellects, art people and investors." Among those who are said to be closest to Mr. Waksal are the art dealer Mr. Gagosian, concert promoter Ron Delsener and entertainment attorney Allen Grubman-three men who are known for their combination of charm, bluntness and inscrutability.

In fact, after Mr. Grubman's daughter, publicist Lizzie Grubman, had her Mercedes mishap at Conscience Point last July, Mr. Waksal told the New York Post that Ms. Grubman seemed like "a very nice, grounded individual."

But that's just scratching the surface. Those who know Mr. Waksal say his friendships include socialite Dixon Boardman, Sopranos actress Lorraine Bracco, adman Jay Chiat, real-estate scion Andrew Farkas, songwriter Denise Rich, scientific writer Stephen Jay Gould, Hamptons builder to the stars Ben Krupinski, and investment banker and Daily News owner Mr. Zuckerman, who, through a spokesman, called Mr. Waksal a "casual friend."

Mr. Waksal also has his share of political connections. He is a supporter of Israel, and last year hosted an intimate dinner party for former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. "Sam aspires to be a big Jew," said one person familiar with Mr. Waksal.

In 2000, Mr. Waksal finagled an invitation to a dinner at the White House with Indian Prime Minister Atal Bihari Vajpayee and Ms. Rich, the songwriter.

ImClone's chief has also courted powers in both political parties. Both former President Clinton and Al Gore were invited to Mr. Waksal's Christmas party last year. They didn't show. The ImClone C.E.O. also has a relationship with Democratic Party bigwig and Miramax co-chairman Harvey Weinstein. He's even closer to State Comptroller Carl McCall. "It would be accurate to call them close personal friends," a spokesman for Mr. McCall said. Indeed, he said that Mr. McCall refers to Mr. Waksal as "Brother Sam." Another source said that Mr. Waksal helped Mr. McCall raise money for his most recent campaign.

That's nothing unusual for Mr. Waksal. Over the last 10 years, he and his family have donated more than $160,000 to Democratic races, from Walt Minnick's campaign for Congress in Idaho to Hillary Clinton's campaign for the Senate in New York.

But Mr. Waksal hasn't turned his back on the Republican Party, either. On April 16, the Post reported that ImClone had paid Governor George Pataki's wife, Libby Pataki, $10,000 as a consultant, but that Ms. Pataki returned the money after "questions" were raised.

Tennis With Carl

Occasionally, Mr. Waksal's personal and business relationships converge. Perhaps there's no better illustration than his friendship with corporate raider Carl Icahn. Mr. Icahn and Mr. Waksal have long been tennis buddies. Indeed, back in May 2001, Mr. Icahn engaged in a little on-camera towel-snapping with Mr. Waksal, telling CNBC's Business Center , "You know, I play a little tennis pretty badly …. But I could beat Sam Waksal. That's about the only guy."

It was a small price to pay. In February, Mr. Icahn, who had invested in ImClone prior to the stock's fall, sent the faltering stock soaring when he announced that he might acquire a controlling interest in the company for $500 million.

Mr. Waksal has maintained close relationships with other ImClone investors: Leon Black of the hedge fund Apollo Management; Nelson Peltz of the food giant Triarc; Larry Feinberg of the hedge fund Oracle Partners; Dr. John Mendelsohn of, among others, Enron; and Mr. Barish.

Mr. Waksal's romantic liaisons, however brief, have also not been without their benefits. Ms. Duff confirmed that she has "bought and sold" ImClone stock, although she declined to divulge whether she still owns any. And a source close to Mr. Waksal said that it was through his relationship with Ms. Weymouth that the ImClone C.E.O. became friendly with Blackstone Group chairman (and former Secretary of Commerce under Richard Nixon) Pete Peterson, who briefly joined ImClone's board of directors. Mr. Peterson resigned in January.

Lots o' Lawsuits

Though Mr. Waksal has done an impressive job of networking this city's boldfaced names, he hasn't been so fortunate with some lesser-known folk. He's been sued by the C.E.O. of a now-defunct online cosmetics company he helped finance, iBeauty.com, for failing to pay her. The case has since been privately settled.

Mr. Waksal has also invested in a number of non-scientific ventures. In 1993, he put up the money to produce a feature-length documentary about the 1992 Democratic National Convention called The Last Party . Robert Downey Jr. and Donovan Leitch starred, and that tells you all you need to know about the project. Mr. Waksal invested in a long-since-closed restaurant called Sam's with actress Mariel Hemingway, and a fashion magazine called Nylon that's primarily known for having model Helena Christensen on its masthead.

Most recently, Mr. Waksal was sued for fraud by James Neal Jr., the former chief financial officer of a small biotechnology company Mr. Waksal started called Scientia Health Group.

According to the complaint Mr. Neal filed in Manhattan Supreme Court in March, Scientia was "a holding company that was to invest in and develop various other companies in the health-care field. In theory, these 'portfolio' companies were to benefit from Scientia's scientific, managerial, financial and operational resources. That would increase the value of the portfolio companies and, in turn, Scientia."

The court documents also allege that "Waksal indicated … he had commitments from associates and investors in ImClone to invest $60 million in Scientia." Scientia is based in Bermuda, but it operates out of ImClone's office on Varick Street.

Through his attorney, Mr. Icahn confirmed putting up some of Scientia's money, though he said, "there were other people who probably invested more than I did." Mr. Peltz and Mr. Black were said to have invested. Mr. Gagosian also invested, thought not much. In a statement to The Observer , the art dealer wrote, "Last year, I, along with dozens of Sam Waksal's social acquaintances, was solicited to invest in a start-up company called Scientia. Aside from the fact that Scientia is in the biotech field, I know very little about the company, let alone any litigation. My total investment in Scientia is six dollars."

A source close to the situation was not surprised at the size of Mr. Gagosian's "investment." "Sam cared more about having Larry on board than having his money," the source said. For that same reason, the source said, Mr. Waksal gave stock in Scientia to friends like Martha Stewart. Spokespersons for both Ms. Stewart and Mr. Weinstein declined to confirm or discuss any alleged stock dealings involving their clients.

According to court papers, Mr. Neal-a longtime biotech executive who was not a member of Mr. Waksal's inner circle-was offered a job as C.F.O. last April, after inquiring into top openings at ImClone. "During his employment," the complaint states, Mr. Neal "became aware of certain illegal and unethical conduct engaged in by Waksal, both in connection with Scientia and his other business interests." The complaint does not say what this conduct was, and neither Mr. Neal, nor his attorneys, would comment on the case.

But the complaint goes on: "In addition, [Mr. Neal] witnessed Waksal make outright misrepresentations to potential investors on numerous occasions." When Mr. Neal "made clear to Waksal, and others, that he would not stand by silently while Waksal engaged in such misconduct," the court papers said. "Waksal, in turn, concluded that he did not want to be hampered by an immediate subordinate who might expose his illegal, unethical and fraudulent behavior. Waksal thus wished to remove plaintiff from Scientia for his own personal benefit," the complaint continued.

As time went by, several investors in Scientia raised objections to Mr. Neal's hiring, according to the complaint; in November, 2001, he was fired for reasons that remain unclear. According to the complaint, his contract was voided on a technicality.

Mr. Waksal's attorney, Paul Ginsberg, told the Transom: "We believe the allegations in Jim Neal's complaint are without merit, but beyond that we're not going to comment pending litigation."

Old Shoe Factory

Like Scientia, ImClone began without a real specific idea of what it was supposed to do. The Waksal brothers started it in an old shoe factory downtown in 1984 with $4 million from biotechnology venture capitalists. They built it up slowly, often sputtering into debt and squeaking by mostly on Samuel Waksal's charm. But things got better beginning in 1992, when the brothers met Dr. Mendelsohn, who claimed to have an incredible cancer treatment forged from human and mouse antibodies-a treatment dropped by Eli Lilly because of its apparent toxicity to humans. Eventually, the drug, later called Erbitux, generated so much hype that ImClone was able to bring in a reputable drug company-Bristol-Myers Squibb-as a 20 percent partner for $1 billion in 2001. Bristol's job was to market Erbitux; ImClone would push it through the F.D.A.'s approval process.

As late as Sept. 19 last year, even big investors seemed confident about Erbitux's prospects. At a conference call with shareholders that day-soon after ImClone signed a deal with Bristol-Myers Squibb-Mr. Waksal was asked how a current study of Erbitux was going. "We completed that trial," he reportedly replied. "It went very well. We'll be announcing that data at the next available conference that we can announce it at …. We believe we will be successful in gaining approval because of the data that we've generated thus far."

But on Dec. 28, the F.D.A. sent a letter to ImClone that raised serious doubts about the test results for Erbitux. On this news, the price of ImClone stock-which had reached a high of $74 in early December-dropped to $14 by early February. The Waksal brothers were accused of dumping some $100 million worth of their own ImClone stock before the news came out, and of encouraging friends and family members to do the same. Sam Waksal's daughter, Aliza, sold close to $2.5 million of her own shares. The investigations and lawsuits ensued.

As it stands, Mr. Waksal is still in charge of his company. With Mr. Icahn's takeover offer looming, ImClone and Bristol have patched things up. Bristol has pledged an additional $700 million to help develop Erbitux, and ImClone's stock is nearly 10 points above its February low. It's a little early to think about the Christmas party, but Mr. Waksal's friends are wondering.

Pillbox Habit

There were red-wrapped condoms in the bathroom and, during cocktails, "Conquest Competition" flyers that asked: "Which is a real Kama Sutra position-Cat & Mice sharing a hole, Giraffe in willow or Silk Worm in Sky?" But the only heavy breathing in evidence at the annual New York City Opera Thrift Shop Benefit on April 8 was expended over clothes.

"I bought a little red riding hood cape I'm really excited about," artist Rachel Feinstein said after rummaging through the racks and racks of vintage clothes that had been wheeled to the wood-paneled third floor of Columbia University's Casa Italiana.

"I got some wonderful linen, tablecloths and twin sheets for my daughter, a Zandra Rhodes dress, a white Mexican dress and a beautiful skirt that looks like it's from the 40's and needs a little work," socialite Marina Rust said. "You have to keep a cool head about you while you're shoving yourself in front of a small mirror and judging whether something will fit you." On her left shoulder, she had flung an additional white crochet dress. "I'm thinking about it," she said.

Vogue 's European editor-at-large Hamish Bowles, stalked the racks wearing a red suit, a red shirt and a black tie. He looked a bit devilish. "Loooovely ," he said of Ms. Feinstein's cape. "Does it work ? Do you like it?" he inquired of Ms. Rust about her finds. " Daaaarling , thaaaaank you for coming," he cooed to a third guest.

Mr. Bowles was the curator of the Metropolitan Museum of Art's Costume Institute exhibit "Jacqueline Kennedy: The White House Years," which is currently in Washington. He is also a self-described "vintage fashionista." He owns a 1936 Schiaparelli jacket embroidered with cellophane that's "pretty wonderful," something from Mainbocher's first collection and now, thanks to the benefit, a rhinestone beaded black satin dress from Galanos, from the late 1950s.

But just how much did Mr. Bowles love vintage? Shortly after the Kennedy show opened at the Met, the gossip grapevine was abuzz with speculation that Mr. Bowles had tried on some of Mrs. Kennedy's clothes before assigning them to their display cases. Mr. Bowles vehemently denied this. "The concept of trying anything on is verboten ," he said, looking appalled.

And what did fashion publicist Eleanor Lambert, who's in her 90's have to say about the vintage craze when she showed up at the event with her grandson. "There's absolutely no one living today that makes you think you have to change the way you look," the turbaned Ms. Lambert said.

-Elisabeth Franck

Dive, Darby, Dive!

Oxygen Media Production President Geoffrey Darby sure seems to have drunk the company Kool-Aid.

Near the beginning of Oxygen's second birthday celebration at Exit on April 4, a number of the multimedia concerns principals gathered on stage, including co-founder Geraldine Laybourne, backer Paul Allen, parenting correspondent Gayle King, Oxygen personality Isaac Mizrahi and Mr. Darby, to rally the crowd. According to one Oxygen employee who was present, after the group did its "'Woo-hoo, Go Oxygen' stuff," Mr. Darby "spontaneously stage dives - in a suit - into a pit of his own employees."

"He is definitely a dork," reported our source, who, by the way, had a problem with the three-pasta buffet served at the soiree. "It's a network about women's issues - what's with all the carbs?" the source said.

Mr. Darby responded that the experience taught him a crucial lesson. "Never stage-dive into a group of women. They'll never catch you." The executive said he suffered only a minor ankle injury, and that he had "do doubt" that the move made him look "dorky."

-Rebecca Traister

The Transom Also Hears …

"If I'm moving my glasses up and down like this," Walter Cronkite said, "it means I can't hear you." It was the night of April 8. Mr. Cronkite was eating pasta at a dinner for bandleader Skitch Henderson at the National Arts Club and talking to a reporter for The New York Times . At 85, he wears two hearing aids, walks kind of slowly, coughs habitually, and seems almost at home with his own mortality.

He told the Times reporter that he and his wife, Betsy, are big fans of the paper. "Nowadays, the first thing Betsy does every morning is turn to C-10 or 12 for the obituaries," he said. "Of course, most days she reads it over and says, 'Nobody good died today.'"

-I.B.

… The old nightlifers mingled with the new ones at the launch party for the alternative fashion magazine Cut on April 4. Mingling in the Canal Street loft of guitarist-turned-photographer Sprague Hollander (Iggy Pop, Lloyd Cole, Safety Last) were Melissa Burns of the up-and-coming electroclash band W.I.T.; the old Queen of the Roxy, Ruza Blue; photographer Adam Fuss, Warholite Benjamin Liu. Veteran designer Stephen Sprouse, who's just finished a line for Target, came late, and Alexander McQueen, who was sporting a tan and a more svelte figure, arrived and left early.

-F.D.

Less than three months later, Ms. Posner's picture appeared in the weekly Downtown Express , next to an article headlined "Wealthy Newcomer Considers a Bid for the Council." The 29-year-old heiress, lawyer and former dot-com executive was quoted saying she was exploring whether she had "something to give back" to her new neighborhood.

People laughed. After all, on paper, Ms. Posner wasn't the most formidable candidate to succeed popular City Councilwoman Kathryn Freed, who is running for Public Advocate. She hadn't gone through the usual preparatory rituals for a run at public office–serving on a community board, making the rounds of the Village's political clubs. She spurned public appearances. At numerous candidates' forums held through the spring and early summer, her six prospective rivals for the Democratic nomination took to snickering among themselves, "Where's Elana?"

What Ms. Posner did have–in large quantities–was money. She opted out of the city's campaign-finance program, allowing her to spend unlimited amounts. She hired high-priced political consultants. She consulted with a former speechwriter for Al Gore. She flooded the streets with paid campaign workers carrying petitions, collecting the voter signatures necessary to win her a place on the ballot. She spent $95,000 in just a few months.

And she had friends–Martha Stewart, publicist Lara Shriftman, attorney Allen Grubman, MTV personality Serena Altschul–who were happy to pull in other high-powered friends to raise more money and bring in more support.

Even in a topsy-turvy election year like this one, when term limits are ousting two-thirds of the City Council, Ms. Posner stands out among the 350 candidates seeking to move into the Council Chamber seats at City Hall. The spending, the inexperience, the inherited wealth, the dot-com background and Page Six-worthy roster of supporters have made her the closest thing to Michael Bloomberg among the Council set.

But Ms. Posner's assets could be turned into liabilities as the campaign unfolds. Already, her opponents have begun caricaturing Ms. Posner as precisely the kind of trust-funded interloper longtime downtown residents love to hate.

"She's the Lizzie Grubman character in the race," snorted a consultant to a rival candidate.

Still, on July 15, she made her candidacy official by filing petitions bearing more than 7,000 signatures–well more than the 900 required to get on the ballot and nearly twice as many as any other candidate. In a race most observers believe will take 4,000 votes to win, it was an impressive show of strength.

The snickering stopped.

"Elana Posner came out of the blue," said John Fratta, one of Ms. Posner's opponents. "We've had dozens of forums already, and no one's ever heard her speak."

Now Ms. Posner's suddenly concerned rivals are on the offensive. "She has a lot of money–maybe she believes she can come in and buy the election," Mr. Fratta said. "But the voters of our district are astute, and I don't think they're going to allow that to happen."

It certainly doesn't help Ms. Posner that she doesn't, strictly speaking, live in the district–instead choosing to spend many nights in a rented apartment in a luxury building on the Upper East Side. Or that Ms. Posner's new home at 60 Warren Street has gained infamy among Tribeca's historic preservationists. Or that, according to Board of Elections records, Ms. Posner is listed as not having voted since 1992. (Ms. Posner's campaign manager says records of her votes were eradicated in a bureaucratic screw-up.)

But so far, Ms. Posner has resolutely declined to talk about these issues–or about much of anything at all. The Observer tried for two months to obtain an interview with Ms. Posner or one her consultants. Finally, on July 26, as this article was being prepared, she called back.

"I really am very focused on talking to voters," she said, apologetically.

Ms. Posner declined to talk about her opponents' criticisms. "I think campaigns are about issues and giving people a choice between candidates and approaches," she said. Then she said she had to go.

"I want to chat with you, too," she said, "but I have to go and call 1,000 voters today. I want to go and make those phone calls before it gets too late. I really would love to chat with you more. Maybe after the primary, you and I can get together and we will go to lunch, O.K.?"

Help From Friends

Of course, Ms. Posner is as qualified as anyone for a career in New York City politics. And certainly the seductive power to rename streets–not to mention the $90,000-a-year salary–has attracted a wild assortment of up-and-comers, wannabes and misfits to the wide-open campaigns across the city this year .

In Manhattan's First Council district alone, Ms. Posner's opponents are a cross-section of downtown Manhattan's ethnic and interest groups. There's Mr. Fratta, a Democratic leader in Little Italy; Alan Gerson, a former community-board chairman; Kwong Hui, an organizer of Chinese restaurant workers; Brad Hoylman, a young nonprofit lawyer who has won the endorsement of the district's gay political group; Margaret Chin, an Asian political activist; and Rocky Chin (no relation), a civil-rights attorney.

Then there's Ms. Posner, a representative of the newest breed of downtowners, the young, successful spawn of the technology boom: "I'm running for the City Council to focus on the issues that many voters–hundreds of voters that I've spoken to–have told me that they're concerned about," she said on the phone. "And I'll tell you what they are: whether they can afford a good home for their families, take care of their parents and themselves as they get older. Their health is an issue. Safe streets, good schools, after-school programs. I'm a staunch supporter of a woman's right to choose. And so–that's why."

Ms. Posner's message has already sparked an outpouring of support from her social set. Friends, including Ms. Shriftman and Ms. Altschul, threw her a fund-raiser on July 24 at the Lansky Lounge, where Ms. Posner was introduced by State Senator Dan Hevesi, the man-about-town son of Mayoral candidate Alan Hevesi.

"Elana is the kind of person who enjoys meeting people," said Tamara Totah, the chief executive of DietSmart.com and a childhood friend. "So, for her, that network is so vast that she has a lot of different worlds to be able to tap into."

Scott Wachs, a former colleague of Ms. Posner's who now works at the William Morris Agency, signed onto the campaign after running into Ms. Posner at Nobu. "To be honest with you, I'm not overly familiar with her stances on the issues," he said. "She just strikes me as a very intelligent, sharp person who's very ambitious, and when she aims to do something, does it."

Attorney Risa Levine, a co-sponsor of Ms. Posner's fund-raiser, learned of Ms. Posner's campaign in April, when the two attended an event for Democratic women sponsored by the Democratic National Committee. Terry McAuliffe spoke. Ms. Levine had always liked Ms. Posner, whom she'd met at a party at her house in the Hamptons a few years before.

"This isn't something capping off a career–this is the start of a career," Ms. Levine said.

So far, this new career has had a rough takeoff. Perhaps because of her sporadic availability she's been savaged in the local press. In March, Ms. Posner told the Downtown Express that she wanted to see "if there is room in this race for a woman who is the granddaughter of Holocaust survivors." The paper went on to remark that "apparently, her Holocaust connection will be an important part of her thumbnail bio … since she mentioned it three times in a 10-minute telephone interview."

Later, she told The Villager : "I am still exploring whether there is an opportunity for a woman candidate with a long-standing interest in the community and a commitment to public service to run."

"So what was the workaholic incumbent, [Ms.] Freed, who had twice won the seat by whopping majorities–a head of lettuce?" asked the article's author, who added that Ms. Posner never e-mailed him back. Ms. Freed, angered by Ms. Posner's remark, promptly endorsed Mr. Gerson.

Perhaps because of such missteps, Ms. Posner's public appearances have thus far been limited to private gatherings of friends and supporters, like the Lansky Lounge event.

"She hasn't been active, she hasn't been out there," said Scott Levenson, a political consultant working for Mr. Fratta. "She's running a stealth candidacy that's creating a candidate from nothing, or attempting to."

One political consultant said the secrecy apparently extends to the campaign's hiring process. He told how Ms. Posner's former campaign manager, Alanna Martin, had approached him this spring to work for a candidate whom she would only identify as "Elana." When he declined, Ms. Martin asked whether any amount of money would change his mind, the consultant said.

"I certainly got the sense they'd spend whatever it takes," the consultant said.

Campaign-finance rules would normally limit a candidate to spending $137,000 on a City Council race. But because Ms. Posner isn't accepting public matching funds, she can spend as much as she pleases.

From January to July, Ms. Posner raised $110,000 for her campaign–much of it her own money–and spent $95,000, according to documents filed with the New York State Board of Elections. Most of the money went to her political consultants.

Ms. Martin recently left the campaign and was replaced as campaign manager by David Dougherty, a political consultant from the Global Strategy Group, a local political-consulting firm whose other clients include Mayoral candidate Fernando Ferrer. She's also getting advice from her childhood friend Kenneth Baer, a speechwriter who was one of the authors of Al Gore's address to the 2000 Democratic convention.

Mr. Dougherty said that the campaign's challenge was to carve out a niche in a crowded race.

"It's about market share, and we feel like there's a chance of developing a market share that's just slightly higher than the next-highest vote-getter," he explained. "Right now, we see our challenge as defining her–making her an entity."

Downtown Girl?

So who, then, is Elana Waksal Posner?

Ms. Posner declined to speak at length about her background. A one-page biography distributed by her campaign begins with the sentence: "A longtime resident of City Council District 1, New York City has been Elana Waksal Posner's home ever since she was a young girl."

Technically, however, Ms. Posner grew up outside the city–in Washington, D.C. Her parents were divorced, and her mother was a school administrator in Washington. Ms. Posner attended the Charles E. Smith Jewish Day School there.

Ms. Totah, who attended school with her, said Ms. Posner was always destined to run for political office. "When she announced she was running for City Council, I don't think any of us were surprised," she said. "Ever since we were young, she's been interested in politics …. At a time when most of us weren't even thinking about things like that, she was off helping raise money and off spreading the word."

Ms. Posner's father, Samuel Waksal, lived in New York, where he traveled in elite social circles while doing cancer research. Mr. Waksal's most promising discovery is an experimental new drug called IMC-C225, which in tests appears to halt the growth of cancer tumors. The drug is now awaiting Food and Drug Administration approval.

Speculation about IMC-C225 fueled a dramatic run-up in the stock of ImClone Systems, the biotechnology company that Mr. Waksal, an immunologist, and his brother, a physician, founded in a converted shoe factory with $4 million in start-up capital. ImClone's market capitalization is now $3 billion. Over the past few years, Mr. Waksal has exercised options on nearly $35 million of his company's stock, according to Securities and Exchange Commission filings.

Even as IMC-C225 works its way through the F.D.A. approval process, Mr. Waksal has been active in politics. He and his family members have donated more than $120,000 to Democratic causes since 1996, of which Ms. Posner herself gave less than $7,000.

Ms. Posner moved to the city to attend New York University, and then Cardozo Law School.

Along the way, she met Jarrett Posner, himself an heir to a fortune. Mr. Posner's grandfather is Victor Posner, the corporate raider who was involved in the scams that sent Michael Milken and Ivan Boesky to jail. As a result, Mr. Posner and Jarrett Posner's father, Steven, were barred from ever trading securities again.

In 1998, the couple was married on the Caribbean island of Nevis. Mr. Waksal's good friend, Martha Stewart, covered the event in her magazine.

For a short time, Ms. Posner practiced at the firm of Paul, Weiss, Rifkind, Wharton & Garrison. Then, in 1999, Sam Waksal and a group of friends–including Marvin Traub, the former chief executive of Bloomingdale's, and movie producer Keith Barish–bought an Internet start-up that specialized in the sale of perfumes. The site was relaunched as iBeauty.com and became one of many Web sites selling cosmetic products to consumers. Ms. Posner became the company's vice president for corporate development.

The company has gone through two C.E.O.'s and its share of Web-economy trauma, but remains in business. Ms. Posner said she left the company, but declined to say when.

"I don't want to get into any conversations about iBeauty," Ms. Posner said. "I think I'm proud of having been a co-founder of a business that gave opportunities to lots of people. It was hard work. It wasn't easy to do, and that's the kind of focus and determination I want to bring to the Council."

Ms. Posner remains a partner, however, in another of her father's financial ventures, BDB Development, a company that buys and renovates downtown properties for residential use.

The building she now calls home, 60 Warren Street, was one of the company's first projects. Plans called for building a four-story addition atop the red-brick former munitions warehouse, which was constructed in the 1860's but is located just outside the boundaries of the Tribeca South Historic District. There were petitions, raucous community-board meetings, even a lawsuit, but the development moved forward. The four-story addition was eventually sold to the chief executive of StarMedia, another dot-com.

"It's very rich–she's in the most controversial building in Tribeca," said Roger Byrom, a member of the board of the Historic Districts Council and a leader of the fight against the building. Mr. Byrom and others fear the original building can't support the weight of the addition.

"What people have advised me is that poor Elana's ceiling is going to fall through, and the four stories belonging to the once-wealthy StarMedia owner are going to come crashing down on her," Mr. Byrom warned.

That danger may be lessened somewhat by the fact that, on many nights, Ms. Posner sleeps 80 or so blocks to the north. She still keeps an apartment on the 11th floor of a skyscraper at 265 East 66th Street, which she listed as her home address until recently. It's the kind of place where the doormen wear white gloves and tunics even on a hot July afternoon, which is when The Observer rang her. She wasn't there, but the doorman said she was in and out all the time.

Ms. Posner maintained that she does, in fact, live at 60 Warren Street.

At the close of the phone interview, she was asked about the controversy surrounding the building.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to," she replied.

Ms. Posner said she was merely a "passive investor" in BDB Development. However, documents filed in connection with the lawsuit over 60 Warren Street list Ms. Posner's father as manager of the company, and Ms. Posner, her husband and her uncle as partners.

"Listen, I'm happy to talk to you about the issues," Ms. Posner interjected.

Ms. Posner was asked whether, as a City Council member, she would support preservationists' calls to extend the historic district to cover her immediate neighborhood, which would prevent redevelopments like the one at 60 Warren Street.

"Absolutely–I support the extension of the historic district," she replied. "I love my neighborhood. O.K., I really want to talk to you, but I have to go and call voters now."

As for when she last voted:

"You know, I don't … the last election. I've gotta go now."

Then is 1992–the last year the voter-registration record showed her casting a ballot–incorrect?

"Hmmm … I don't know. I'm gonna go and call these voters now. But thank you for taking the time–I appreciate it–and for your interest, and I'll look forward to reading the piece."