She is the continuum, the one constant through more than five years in office and two campaigns. Criticized for her handling of the media, ridiculed for her lack of credentials, accused of being the mayor's lover, and implicated in nearly every public-relations disaster the administration has suffered, she has not only survived but become his closest aide, his confidante, and his constant companion. He picks her up in the morning, he drops her off in the evening, and in between they are together eighteen hours a day. Several nights a week, they can be found at Cooper's Classic Cigar Bar, on 58th Street, having dinner, relaxing, and discussing policy.

"She permeates every aspect of city government," says a City Hall insider. "And there isn't a commissioner or a senior member of the administration who's not fearful of her. The mayor believes she can walk on water."

Though she has even been dubbed "co-mayor" by a couple of people on his staff, that really misses the point. She is more like a cheerleader or an agitator. Picture her as the corner man at a boxing match, splashing water on her fighter's face, emphasizing the opponent's weaknesses, telling him which punches to throw, and urging him on with a constant You the man kind of chatter.

It is again a measure of his arrogance (and hers) that even after several embarrassing waves of publicity regarding their relationship, nothing much changed. "What we at City Hall really resented was their complete disregard for the perception created by their behavior," says a former staff member.

"Despite the widespread rumors, however unfounded we chose to believe they were, the mayor and Cristyne altered none of the actions that led to those rumors. A more seasoned political-communications person would certainly have understood that steps were necessary to address them, even if not directly. There was a complete disregard for appearances."

There's no question, however, that it's been a difficult road for the two of them. Almost immediately after his election in 1993, she provoked severe hostility from the reporters who cover City Hall with her often dismissive attitude and her willingness to cut off anyone who wrote something negative about the mayor.

And it is a revealing detail about Giuliani's personality that the more she was attacked, the more he dug in his heels. "He viewed those attacks on her as attacks on him," says a recently departed staff member.

"She was the key representative of the mayor's combative style," says another former member of the administration. "And she was the emblem of an administration where people in critical jobs had little or no experience in those jobs and were simply carrying out the mayor's imperatives."

Just when things seemed to reach critical mass in 1995, Lategano was lifted out of harm's way through a promotion from press secretary to communications director. With her new title, she got a raise, an office adjoining the mayor's, and a reprieve from having to mix it up every day with the reporters. "Her new title -- communications director -- was the perfect oxymoron, since she neither communicated nor directed," says one former insider.

"So here you have a mayor who has a tin ear for public relations, a tin ear for politics, and a bad mouth. And his key adviser has no ear for public relations and no ear for politics because she's had so little experience at both. She tells him all his ideas sound great and then passes them on to underlings as policy that's supposedly been vetted by the mayor and his key communications analyst."