"How Many Ed Rendells Are There?"

America's Mayor is riding shotgun on FDR Drive in New York City, on his way to see Rudy. Gimme that, says Ed Rendell, grabbing the driver's car phone so he can call and tell Rudy Giuliani that he's running a little late. He is in New York to do what he does best these days - become more popular. And so far, that's exactly what he's accomplished. He has just spent the morning wowing the New York business community on the joys of privatizing city services, and now he's off "to some dumb photo op" with the newly elected mayor of New York City.

"Frank," Eddie says to the driver, who's about to become his new best friend, "this is not to put any pressure on you, but how long will it take us to get to City Hall?"

"I'm not sure," says Frank Guido from Staten Island. "I've never been to City Hall."

"All right, Frank!" says Eddie, laughing and slapping. "But you do know where it is?"

Rendell punches in the number for directory assistance, asks for Mayor Giuliani's office and ends up in voice mail hell with the "Mayor's Action Line."

"Rudy didn't give you a private line?" asks Frank.

"No, Frank," says Eddie. "And this operator didn't even give me the mayor's office. Now I have to listen to this fucking recorded message."

Rendell bangs down the phone. "Screw it. We're almost there. And if we miss it, no big deal, Frank. It's justa buncha mayors."

"You want me to try and get through?" asks Frank.

"Nah," says Ed Rendell. "No one in New York speaks English anyway." Moments later, the car carrying America's Mayor arrives in front of New York City Hall. Rendell marvels at the scene. "Look at all these foreign fucking cars," he says. He swings through the doors of City Hall like he always does, like a bull, pausing only to pass through the metal detector.

Unfortunately, the guest he's brought with him, this particular female reporter, beeps several times. At which point Rendell decides to show off that special subtle charm: "Take it off, Lis! Take everything off!" our mayor is laughing and yelling to me, as the security guards raise their eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," says one of the guards. "Your name is, again?"

"Ed Ren-dell," says our mayor.

He is quickly escorted into a flag-draped blue room filled with formal portraits of every mayor of New York (except for Koch, who insisted on a photograph). In the front of the room, Rudy Giuliani is sitting at a table, flanked by several of America's not-so-famous mayors. They are staring at a room full of press, including four TV cameras, waiting for Ed Rendell.

It turns out this is not just a dumb photo op.

"Glad they told me," mutters Rendell, who had "no idea" that Rudy gathered them here, in view of the entire New York press corps, to draft a letter to President Clinton to beg for more cops for the cities.