Hey guys, I have a neat little quiz for you. What do Frank Gifford, Bill Clinton, and Marv Albert have in common?

Let's see . . . they are all overgrown adolescents with active libidos? Good guess, but not quite what we're looking for. They're all respected public figures in the sports world? No. No one respects Bubba Clinton in the world of sports, because he spent his college career smoking pot instead of playing ball.

Wait, I know! Could it be that all three stand accused of taking a dip in the forbidden waters of womanhood?

Let us dissect the charges. Marv stands accused of biting a woman 15 times (anything over 12 is a felony) and attempting to force her to commit a sexual act that is illegal even between consenting adults in several states.

This one was a shocker, because Marv up until this point has been a very noncontroversial figure, a hard-working announcer who is the voice of the Knicks, the Rangers, NBC Sports, and God only knows what else. Marv broadcasts so many games that none of us has ever heard a game he wasn't broadcasting. Marv, for those of you who don't know, started his career on WLNG doing East Hampton High football, and as far as I know he didn't bite anyone around here, even once.

To put it politely, Giff really got caught with his, er, hand in the cookie jar. This made big news because he is married to Kathie Lee Gifford, who is world famous for having figured out how to employ hundreds of people for 11 cents an hour, thus single-handedly creating the Really, Really Lower Middle Class all by herself. She is also on television a lot, with Regis Philbin, though his hourly wage is a lot more than that - I'd say he's worth a good 16 cents per, from what I've seen of him.

Anyhow, when The Globe reported Giff had a liaison with a buxom blonde in her hotel room, he angrily denied it, just as he did when his wife was accused of exploiting laborers. They threatened to sue The Globe, but, uh-oh, what's this? Yes! Pictures of a man who looked a hell of a lot like Giff in the embrace of a strange woman. Here's how Marv might have broadcast the "event."

Okay, folks, Gifford looks in rare form, and it appears he's well under control of things. He starts his maneuver now. Oh! A brilliant cross-over kiss! Smooth embrace, Giff! Well done. Gifford now moving toward the flank. Uses his left hand . . . now switches to his right . . . fakes up, goes down . . . Yes! A score! A score! We're all tied-up, folks!

I couldn't believe it when the photos came out. My first instinct was that they were fakes. I even went so far as to get a magnifying glass. I took a good, hard look at the gentleman in the compromising positions and when I saw the wrinkles on the neck I knew it was my first idol, the former New York Giants halfback Frank Gifford himself, who apparently played pro ball around the turn of the century, about 81 years before Kathy Lee was born. The best thing is that he was cheating on her with an older woman. How's that for a twist?

Which brings us to Bubba Clinton. You know, that darn Supreme Court. Just because some woman accuses the President of making obscene advances the Court decides he can't use the Presidential office as a shield. Think about all the murders, mayhem, illegal wheeling-dealings, and God only knows what else that may have taken place inside the sanctum of the White House under the guise of Presidential immunity, and then ask yourself if this is fair. I mean, we can plot the assassinations of Latin American dictators without fear of reprisal but we can't even arrange a little tryst for our hard-working leader without everyone getting blown out of shape? What's this world coming to?

Paula Jones is not the only person to accuse Clinton of womanizing. An F.B.I. agent said the Prez routinely uses agents and Secret Service personnel to line up babes for him. Think about it - a young man out of college gets the calling to serve his country, and enrolls in the F.B.I. Months of intensive physical training and psychological testing and probing go by. He becomes an expert in firearms, in self-defense, in the use of sophisticated investigatory techniques like fingerprinting, wiretapping, etc. He then gets assigned to the White House:

Prez: Agent, see that shapely redhead over there? I want you to go tell her the President wants to meet her in his room later.

Agent: Sir, with all due respect, that's not part of my job.

Prez: Okay, run down to Burger King and get me two Whoppers, fries, and a shake and send the Secret Service guy over to the babe.

Anyhow, here's how I think things will shake out: The Prez will reach an undetermined financial settlement with Ms. Jones and she will go away forever more. Either that or he'll direct one of those F.B.I. guys to pretend she is the head of state of some Latin American country, in which case it will be okay to shoot her 47 times.

Marv will have his day in court, call Dennis Rodman as a character witness, and bite the judge 15 times if he's found guilty.

Kathie Lee will cry on the air, pray for Frank's salvation, and end up on a cruise with the entire Green Bay Packers football team, muttering things like "I thought all football players were wrinkled, old fossils" to every guy in the offensive backfield.

A repentant Giff will find God in the underwear of some broad half his age, and everyone ever involved in one of these public tawdry affairs will sue everybody else in civil court for zillions of dollars. Pee Wee Herman's left hand will reach an out-of-court settlement with his right.

The East Hampton Village Zoning Board of Appeals, motivated by good intentions, is heading down the road to hell. Zoning is big business here, whether we like it or not. In the past decade or so an influx of wealthy people willing to spend whatever it takes to get what they want has changed the game, if not the rules.

In their efforts to bend the Village Code to their will, these property owners have introduced batteries of high-priced lawyers and "environmental consultants" to a meeting room lined with trophy cases and photographs of firefighters. All too often they have turned what used to be sedate give-and-takes into adversarial proceedings.

Sometimes these applicants are contending against the natural environment, which government is supposed to protect. More often, however, the board has to rule on the conflicting desires of neighbors.

It is the responsibility of the appointed members of appeals boards to consider whether variances from the laws are necessary and to weigh what the negative impacts may be if exceptions are granted. Village Z.B.A. members, however, with the exception of Joan Denny, seem ill-equipped to handle the charge.

Unlike the Town Zoning Board of Appeals, whose members spell out their reasoning as they cast their votes, Village Z.B.A. members appear to shoot from the hip - or vote from the gut - and then figure out how to justify what they have done.

Time and time again, they have been unable to articulate the step-by-step logic behind their thinking. For years, their attorney, Johanna Caleca, who recently left the job, had to walk members through the decision-making process to insure that the record showed it was based on reasoned consideration. This is inadequate at best and a recipe for legal disaster at worst.

During the early forays in the much-publicized dispute between Martha Stewart and Harry Macklowe, for example, with a court reporter hired for the occasion transcribing every word, a Z.B.A. member interrupted Mr. Macklowe's lawyer to demand that he "get to the point. What's your point?"

"I'm trying to build a record," said the surprised attorney. Not long afterward, he was told to "wrap it up, I need to take my wife to the hairdresser."

The board's decision eventually went against Mr. Macklowe, though it took a while before the members found a relevant chapter in the code to back it up. Mr. Macklowe has since sued. And these litigious goings-on are beginning to add up.

Z.B.A. members have a thankless job. They deserve credit for the many hours they devote to the community's welfare. No matter what they do, someone is going to be unhappy.

Five years ago, the Village Z.B.A. had a major decision on its hands: Should Alice Lawrence's tall wall on Highway Behind the Pond be considered a fence, in which case it would have been too high, or part of the house's design? The 1992 board handled the case skillfully, listening to elaborate presentations and rendering a solid, grounded decision. The key was a strong chairman, Irving Markowitz, who has since retired. Mr. Markowitz was diplomatic, articulate, and sharp on the issues. The Z.B.A. has not been the same since. East Hampton no longer is "Our Town." It is time for a more professional board and for stronger leadership.

Peter Beard is on a roll. The Montauk artist was in Arles, France, this week installing selections of his work at the Nord-Penus Hotel. Meanwhile, his explosive mix of penned diary entries, photography, and collage is the focus of a summerlong retrospective at the Time Is Always Now gallery on Spring Street in New York City.

On Sunday, speaking from France, he said that despite a relative lack of fanfare, the New York show is better than the one that took Paris by storm in January.

That show, "Carnets Africans," at the Centre National de la Photographie, was his first retrospective. It presented four decade' worth of "mosaics" that reveal Mr. Beard's singular and unsettling vision of an overpopulated world run amok.

Much of the same work is on display now in New York. It includes pieces created by the artist in the wake of his near-fatal trampling by an elephant in the Maasai Mara Preserve on the border of Tanzania last September.

Ironic Predicament

The run-in was not without irony. Mr. Beard's pelvis was crushed, and he found himself slumped on an African anthill with massive internal bleeding at the feet of the animal whose plight he has spent 40 years documenting.

His book "End of the Game," published in 1965, first told the story with haunting photos of starving elephants and skeletons of culled elephants in Kenya's Tsavo Preserve. The plot is simple: Human society crowds out wildlife, resources, and each other.

"She got me up against the anthill. I was a human, and that's what it's all about. We're microscopically small, and doing everything wrong. It was perfect to end up there," he said in January as he prepared for the Paris show only three months after the incident.

Collector's Collage

Mr. Beard's mosaics are a feast. He is an indefatigable collector - of cobblestones from the beach in front of his house in the Montauk moorlands, of bones from around his Hog Ranch complex outside Nairobi, Kenya, of newspaper headlines, snakeskins, feathers.

If the finds are small enough, they are glued into the diary pages he began writing in the 1960s when Jackie Onassis gave him a leather-bound journal as a gift. He was keeping company with her sister, Lee Radziwill, at the time.

On the pages, on and around the collectibles and the glued photos he's taken over the years (his "dictionary of images"), he continues his written commentary on world events, in ink and blood.

The framed pieces he likes to call mosaics come in all sizes. They often include photographs of his frenetic diary intermixed with striking black-and-white images of Africa.

Time For Cunning

Typical of the Beard style and "End of the Game" theme is the mosaic he created after the elephant attack which served as the centerpiece of the Paris show. The 6-by-4-foot piece is atypically autobiographical, however - testimony to the impact the trampling has had on the artist. The piece is a wild, apocalyptic compilation of individual days.

Two magnetic resonance imaging photos that show Mr. Beard's spine and brain appear in the center. Between them is glued a plastic intravenous bag and tubing labeled "morphine." There are grisly photos of him in surgery, but then mellow pictures of his Montauk house and loving photos of his daughter, Zara.

"I had a few flashes of Zara, and I thought I'd better do something really cunning if I was going to see her again," he said, recalling his unsuccessful 100-yard dash to outrun the matriarch of the elephant herd.

Devil-May-Care Attitude

The cunning move was to hold onto the elephant's left front leg to avoid being crushed again. A tusk had gone through his thigh, narrowly missing the femoral artery.

To those who know him, Mr. Beard's dire outlook and unrelenting approach to his work have always appeared in surprising contrast to the devil-may-care attitude he projects. He has been perceived, with some justification, as a blue-blooded playboy - a friend of Mick Jagger and Andy Warhol, running with a fast crowd and often setting the pace.

He was married to Cheryl Tiegs, and before that to a Newport socialite, Minnie Cushing. News stories following the trampling had predictable angles, viewing it as a comeuppance, hubris and the fall.

It was, of course, not that simple. The fall, given Mr. Beard's relationship with elephants and their sad story, was an object lesson, a prediction fulfilled upon the man who made it. He believes that much of the world's turmoil emanates from a claustrophobic reaction - like the elephant's - to overpopulation and human meddling. That nature will exact a terrible vengeance on human arrogance Mr. Beard has no doubt.

In this regard images of the O.J. Simpson trial provided as much grist for Mr. Beard as the dead and dying elephants of Tsavo. In other words, Mr. Beard's work is not without humor, black though it may be.

"The Hotel Nord-Penus is where Hemingway stayed, and Picasso, and Jean Cocteau," he said on Sunday from Arles. "Bullfighters always stayed in Room 10 the night before a fight." It is also the hotel that displayed Mr. Beard's work in 1984.

Discomfort With "Art"

"This is a Roman town. The Emperor Tertullian visited Arles," he said, going on to recite, with little hesitation, the emperor's words decrying the state of the world in 337 A.D.:

"Our teeming population is the strongest evidence: Our numbers are burdensome to the world, which can hardly supply us from its natural elements; our wants grow more and more keen, and our complaints more bitter in the mouth, whilst nature fails in affording us her usual sustenance. In every deed, pestilence, and famine, and wars, and earthquakes have to be regarded as a remedy for nations, and the means of pruning the luxuriance of the human race."

Despite the social stratum in which he moves, money has never been a preoccupation. More has gone out than comes in. Nor has he spent much time on self-promotion, a modicum of which would have generated substantial revenues before now.

Transformation

Perhaps it's because he has always been uncomfortable with "art" and seems to have no interest in defining what he does. Ask him the title of a particular piece and the look you get is the closest thing to contempt he can muster.

Najma, a kindly and exotic woman from a prominent Nairobi family whom Mr. Beard married in 1986, speaks of a post-trampling transformation. She was able to get through to her husband from New York soon after his initial surgery. She said "a hard shell" was broken by the elephant and that his work seems to have taken on a new importance. "I think it's his moment," she said.

Judging from the prices being paid for his mosaics, the moment will be lucrative. On Sunday he gleefully relived the bidding for a work sold at a benefit auction in Cannes, during the recent film festival.

"Demi Moore made the first bid at $10,000, then Sean Penn bid. Johnny Depp bid $20,000. A Saudi prince got it for $35,000," he said with a laugh. Larger pieces at the Time Is Always Now gallery are priced in the $60,000 to $100,000 range.

Mr. Beard plans to return home to Montauk by the end of the month, after the opening of his show at the Michael Hoppin gallery in London.

Grim reality caught up with the rumors this week. All of a sudden, whatever weather-related event it was that precipitated a crisis over the winter in Costa Rica and Colombia and other South American coffee-growing countries showed up on local shelves.

Everyone knew it was coming, but no one was ready. Overnight, the price of an ordinary, no-frills can of coffee - forget French Roast and Hazelnut - jumped about a dollar. A pound of coffee that used to cost $4 is $5 now. Did we say a pound? Oops. Make that 12 ounces.

So far, the leap in the by-the-can price has not been matched over the counter. A cuppa joe still costs $1, though there are signs that may not last.

Not that any of it matters. Slaves to our morning habit, we will close our eyes to the cost, open our wallets, and stir, sip, and slurp. Aaahh.

A University of Maryland professor who calls himself "Dr. Beach" has released his annual rankings of the nation's top 20 beaches, and once again Main Beach in East Hampton is among the stars of the strands.

Mind you, it ranks no higher than 15th. But that's okay - the first 13 are all either in Hawaii, on islands that developers have never heard of, or in Florida, on outlying keys or part of state park preserves. Number 14 is in North Carolina, but again on an island - Ocracoke, well off the coast and almost inaccessible.

What is remarkable about Main Beach's standing (and that of its near neighbor, Dune Road beach in Westhampton, rated 16th) is that they are world-class beaches not because of their location but despite it. In spite of the fact that the Hamptons are accessible to some 10 million people in the tristate area, its most popular beaches remain pristine.

The Maryland professor is Stephen Leatherman, a coastal engineer who has seen our beaches at first-hand.

"The beaches are open for sunbathers, but they don't allow off-road vehicles to rampage up and down," he explained. "There are designated areas for fishermen. There are good hotels and restaurants nearby, but they're not right on the beach."

Nature's gifts - the broad sands, the size of the waves, the temperature of the water - are part of the criteria, of course, but only a part. It is our stewardship that matters most.

New wave and its darker sibling, post-punk, weren't exactly the most enduring musical genres, which explains the ho-hum response to some recent comeback attempts (see Duran Duran and Depeche Mode). Regardless, the post-punk legends Echo and the Bunnymen are reunited, touring, and set to release their first new material as a full unit in 10 years.

The Bunnymen's performance at Guild Hall Friday night proved what the band's cult-like following already knew: that Echo and the Bunnymen were not just a pop gimmick - all mascara and no meat - but a solid artistic force.

A reviewer in their native England once credited them and their contemporaries, Joy Division, with setting off "a whole generation of doomy youth sporting raincoats, big hair, and carefully cultivated angst."

Star Material

There were no raincoats at Guild Hall's John Drew Theater on Friday night, but the near-capacity crowd seemed dedicated and expectant. One half of the room stood up for the entire two-hour show.

A truly retrospective set, the show opened with the band's first big single from 1980, "Rescue," and closed 15 numbers later with its second hit single, "Do It Clean." The band went light on its new material, even though a new album, "Evergreen," is set to be released next month. Instead, members treated the audience to a spirited reintroduction to the band, running through dark classics like "All That Jazz," "Killing Moon," and its most recognizable and recent hit, "Lips Like Sugar."

The group's lead singer, Ian McCulloch, was pure pop-star material throughout, proving why the band never quite succeeded without his sex-symbol charisma. Wearing white jeans and white denim jacket and sporting hair that looked like a severe case of bed-head, Mr. McCulloch played the part.

Three Moves

At first, his calculated indifference seemed unfair to the crowd, who obviously adored him. His persona appeared to stem more from boredom than angst, and he seemed more concerned about his drink on the floor and getting lit cigarettes from his backstage crew than putting on a stage show.

Mr. McCulloch had three moves throughout the show: standing with a hand on the microphone with a bent knee; turning to the drummer and nodding his head between verses, and crouching down to take a drink from his cup.

Somehow, though, his Jim Morrison-style of standing and crooning seemed to give him more and more charisma as the show rolled on. The band even saluted Jim Morrison with its version of "People Are Strange" - a dead-on version, without much added personality.

Adoring Fans

"I can't believe how adorable he is!" a girl behind me cried to her friend during a rousing version of "Killing Moon." Before the show, a woman in a white stretch limo pleaded with the Guild Hall staff to send out Mr. McCulloch, blocking traffic in the process for about a half-hour.

Other than Mr. McCulloch, the band was not much to look at. With minimal lighting effects and other diversions, one was drawn into the vocals and the psychedelic, echo-laced guitar work of Will Sergeant. Musically, the band had few traces of the happy synthesizer-driven pop that characterized much of the new wave era. These songs were soaring, powerful vehicles for Mr. McCulloch's high-pitched crooning.

Mr. Sergeant's guitar intertwined with the synth to create full-bodied chords, and Les Pattinson's steady, rolling bass was complemented by flawless drums by Michael Lee (Mr. Lee was recently tapped to back the reunited Jimmy Page and Robert Plant of Led Zeppelin).

A few new numbers - "Don't Let It Get You Down," "Altamont," and "I Want to Be There (When You Come)" - proved particularly engaging, with the Bunnymen seeming to conjure back some of the darker, punk-glam essence of Iggy Pop, David Bowie, et al. Too often during the set, you could close your eyes and swear you were at a U2 concert.

All in all, Echo and the Bunnymen put on an inspiring show that, thankfully, avoided dredging up new-wave gimmickry and fashion and concentrated on music.

As far as season finales go, Labor Day weekend is shaping up to be a whopper at Amagansett's Stephen Talkhouse. The lineup covers the spectrum, running from jazz to Delta blues. The legendary Latin-jazz percussionist Tito Puente starts it all off with two shows tonight at 8 and 10.

Tomorrow's early show by the trumpeter Chuck Mangione couldn't be anything but magical. A huge, haunting trumpet sound like Mr. Mangione's in a dark, cozy venue like the Talkhouse has the makings of a killer concert. He starts at 8. The gears will shift into overdrive at 11, when The Bogmen power out their manic, addictive alternative rock.

The Bogmen will stick around for the early show Saturday at 8, followed by The John Paris Band. The weekend pushes on into Sunday, with the entrancing Delta bluesman John Hammond at 8. Cadillac Moon will churn out "Tequila Sheila," "Goin' to Oyster Bay," and its other party favorites, afterward at 11.

The Talkhouse's weekday schedule slims down after that, but you can count on the popular acoustic Mondays to remain where they are.

M-80

Yo, Hollis, Queens, your homeboys Run-D.M.C. will be on stage Sunday night at M-80 in Southampton. The North Sea Road nightclub has decided to top off its end-of-summer rap series with hip-hop's most dynamic duo, the ones who brought us such classics as "Sucka M.C.s" and "You Be Illin'." The doors open at 9 p.m.

It should be a big weekend all around at M-80. Saturday night brings the on-the-rise young fashion designer Anand Jon for "Climax," a fashion show and party to complement what should be one of the club's biggest Saturdays of the summer. The event, hosted by Chris Hulbert, Rocco Ancarola, and Seth Greenberg, will feature a bevy of models wearing Anand Jon fashions, among other attractions.

Tomorrow night brings the club's normal Friday night dance party, hosted by Joey Morrissey. Tonight brings M-80's employee night as usual.

Jet East

Chalk Donald Trump onto the list of luminaries who have loitered on the couches at Jet East this summer. Joining the mega-mogul in the V.I.P. room Saturday night was none other than the Don's daughter, Ivanka. Being that she's still but a teen, one hopes she was drinking ginger ale.

The Jet has no special events lined up for this weekend aside from its ordinary dance parties.

Sound Factory

The dance-oriented Sound Factory in Southampton has all its DJs in a row and ready for Labor Day weekend, and the promoters are working to fill the cavernous club for three nights. Since the language of DJs is all foreign to me, I will relay this info. You translate: Friday will feature DJ Danny Teglia as well as DJ Razor and Johnny Vicious, who hosts HOT-97's "All Night Dance Party."

Saturday brings back the "Big Saturday" party, hosted by Michael Marcus, Joey Morrissey, and others, and Sunday brings back DJ Danny Teglia for a "Deep Into the Night" party lasting till noon.

The Sound Factory is on Montauk Highway, next to Pier One Imports.

Hansom House

The odd but appealing Hansom House on Elm Street, Southampton, has spent the summer dealing in blues and reggae - blues acts one weekend and reggae acts on alternate weekends - so for the season finale, the club has decided to combine the best of both worlds.

The super-feisty Shockshine will lead off tomorrow night, with its tight, original reggae at 10:30. The bluesman Bo Diddley Jr., whom the Hansom House has been beaming about all summer, will take over Saturday and Sunday, also at 10:30.

75 Main

Four nights of live music are on the menu at Southampton's 75 Main this week, all starting with Walter Finley's mellow rock tonight at 10:30 p.m. Chris Barret takes his normal spot at the piano tomorrow from 9 to 1 p.m. Reggae is the word for the next two nights, with Ramage playing Saturday at 11 and Tribal Legacy pumping it out Sunday at the same time.

Publick House

The Lone Sharks will make a rare trip to Southampton tomorrow night to play at the Southampton Publick House on Main Street and Bowden Square. The super-tight rockabilly group starts at 10 p.m. Saturday and Sunday nights are handled by the brewpub's rotation of DJs.

The real surprise at the Publick House, though, has been Monday nights with Sweet Belly Kisses, a young band that plays everything from Tony Bennett to Pearl Jam and has been drawing a weekend-sized crowd for the better part of the summer.

Buckley's Irish Pub

The always-lively local crowd at Buckley's Irish Pub in Southampton will be grooving to the band Planet Groove Saturday night from 11 on. The band pulls from a deep repertory of classic and modern rock and other styles, all danceable and upbeat. The one-man musical unit Amo plays his own treasure trove of classics Sunday night at 10.

Buckley's is on Job's Lane.

Chili Peppers

For those who haven't yet spent an afternoon in the sun with the funky Hotheads, Chili Peppers in Sag Harbor provides two more chances. No excuses. With their interplaying hip-hop and reggae vocals floating over a funk backbeat, The Hotheads make it hard to avoid the dance floor.

Latin dance music drives Chili Peppers' disco lights every Friday night after 10, and the beat changes over to disco on Saturdays.

Harbor House

The Harbor House in Sag Harbor should certainly be proud of its inaugural season. The popular music establishment gave the Harbor a big nightlife boost that should linger well through the off-season. One thing that won't is the club's employee night, which headed off into the sunset on Tuesday.

The Harbor House will head into Labor Day with guns ablaze, starting tonight with a double bill featuring the revved-up lounge music of Soul Curry starting at 10:30, followed by the Poughkeepsie-based band Osiva. The group's style has been described as "high-octane, psychoactive hip-hop." Sunday will feature more than the usual live reggae, when Shockshine joins Dollaman and Jamalski for a Labor Day minifest, beginning at 10:30.

The Harbor House is on Bridge Street.

Bulls Head Bar And Grill

Some blues with your rib-eye steak? The Bulls Head Bar and Grill on Main Street, Bridgehampton, is serving up Jim Turner Wednesday and next Thursday night around 9 p.m. Mr. Turner will also appear at the Parrish Art Museum in South ampton on Saturday afternoon at 2 p.m., for those hard-core Turner fans.

Riffz

The jukebox, pool tables, late-night kitchen and the rest of the amenities at Riffz on Montauk Highway, East Hampton, should be on full tilt this weekend. Live music is also on the itinerary, with the acoustic rocker Bruce Stuart tomorrow at 10 and The Fugitives playing rock-and-roll old and new Sunday night at the same time. As always, the coin slot is turned off on the jukebox on Saturday, so anyone can be a DJ for free.

Maidstone Arms

Kevin Ronan still fills the Water Room at East Hampton's Maidstone Arms with classical guitar and vocals. He appears on Saturday and Sunday this weekend at 7:30 p.m. both nights.

The Maidstone Arms is on Main Street across from Town Pond.

Dancing Crab

An open bar from 10 p.m. till 2 a.m.? Sounds good on the wallet, huh? Well, that's the hook Friday and Saturday nights at Montauk's Dancing Crab. A relatively small cover charge, and you're on your way.

The Morris Brothers play their classic rock tomorrow night at 10:30, leaving Saturday open for the DJ-driven "Club Crab" party. Sunday is still reserved for the Crab's employee night. Monday-night football, that somber signal that the season has faded, will be the feature every Monday at the club, with an open bar deal and free franks.

The Crab is on West Lake Drive.

Memory Motel

Live rock and blues acts continue to be the norm at Montauk's Memory Motel. Tomorrow night brings one of the bar's regulars, The O.K. Club, at 10:30, and Saturday and Sunday will feature Hard Copy. Don't forget, the Memory hauls out the karaoke machine every Wednesday night.

The Memory is on Main Street.

Dunes and Tide

Speaking of karaoke, it occurs at Montauk's Dunes and Tide on South Edison Street tonight and every Thursday at 10. DJs take over tomorrow and Saturday, with the Dunes' "Fever Friday" party tomorrow and the club's "Gilligan's Island" party on Saturday, both starting at 10.

Reggae from the band Impulse will change the beat Sunday night at 9 p.m.

Gurney's Inn

You can bet Gurney's Inn in Montauk will be full of guests for the big weekend, which means they'll need to be entertained. The Paul Gene Band is apparently happy to oblige. The veteran classic-rock keyboardist and his band are booked every day through Sunday. Every day, that is, except Thursday, so as not to usurp Gurney's popular karaoke night.

Music starts after 8 p.m. at Gurney's, which is on Old Montauk Highway.

AMAGANSETT

Gogel to Rory Hogan, Jacqueline Drive, $295,000.

LaGrassa to Diane Sping, Grove Street, $190,000.

Reutershan to Jean-Charles Sprunger, Stony Hill Road, $430,000.

Beja to Chet and Francine Lane, Bittersweet Lane, $172,500.

BRIDGEHAMPTON

Bossio to Mary Moran and Ira Feinberg, Osprey Way, $400,000.

Birdsall to James and Hermine Freed, Noyac Path, $195,000.

Mahoney to Bettysue Hughes, Ocean Road, $550,000.

EAST HAMPTON

Peltz to Paul Zullo, Springwoods Lane, $287,500.

Paster to Michael Purrazzella and Gary Seff, Montauk Highway, $195,000.

Ebbin to Iris Gair, Springy Banks Road, $210,000.

Barnett Const. Corp. to Richard and Donna Hassard, Long Hill Road, $645,000.

Avallone to Richard and Kerri Stevens, Whooping Hollow Road, $175,000.

Moyer to Donald Zucker, the Circle, $295,000.

MONTAUK

ICR of Montauk Ltd. to the Nature Conservancy, Montauk Highway, (the Sanctuary, 339.8 vacant acres) $4,180,000.

NORTHWEST

Weil to Charlotte Abrams, Montauk Avenue, $237,500.

Forman to Robert and Sara Coe, Three Mile Harbor Drive (two harborfront lots), $1,088,000.

Munash to Jeffrey Eisenberg, Bayview Avenue, $269,000.

NOYAC

Timberland Homes to Ronald Guttman and Irene Cheng, Fourteen Hills Court, $240,000.

Lamar to Gennaro and Jennifer Vanacore, Emersen Place, $415,000.

Stuckart to Nikki Wood, Island View Drive, $297,000.

SAG HARBOR

Murac to Claudia Camozzi, Cove Drive, $460,000.

Nelson to David and Priscilla Hartman, Peninsula Drive, $155,000.

Mander to Charles and Elizabeth Cardile and Frank and Lynn Caniglia, Main Street, $747,000.

Ocean View Farms Ltd. to Thomas and Mary Souhrada, Island View Drive, $295,000.

SAGAPONACK

Fox estate to Elio Fox and Anne Isaak, Seascape Lane, $610,000.

SPRINGS

Vajda to Jon Forsberg, Spruce Street, $151,000.

Langer to Thomas Willsen and Thomas Fox, Isle of Wight Road, $235,000.

WAINSCOTT

Adams to Beach Lane Assoc. Inc., Beach Lane (two lots), $950,000.

WATER MILL

Duo Designs Inc. to Bradley and Loretta Kohnke, Stephen Halsey's Path, $537,500.

Mulvany to Frank and Joan Ginsberg, Holly Lane (two lots), $1,800,000.

Eckert to John and Susan Lesser, Seven Ponds Towd Road (two lots), $215,000.

One p.m. Thursday, the quietest hour of the quietest day of the Star week. The phone rings maybe once an hour on Thursdays.

The phone rings. It's The New York Post's Page Six. "We're calling about a story on your front page today . . ."

Don't tell me, let me guess. There's Job Potter and Lisa Grenci running for Town Board, there's the Amagansett School Board election, there's Martha Stewart and the landscaper . . .

"Yes, what about it?"

"Could you tell us more? Did you have trouble getting the police to talk to you?"

"Trouble?"

(Plaintively): "They didn't want to talk to us."

"Oh. Well, we talk to them every day, maybe that's why. How did you happen to see the story so fast?"

"We got a fax. It'll be in the column tomorrow. Hey, we'll credit you."

"Gee. Thanks."

I expected my first day as an intern at The Star to be pretty low-key. I planned to work on my first story, write up a few short pieces, and maybe learn the word-processing software we use here.

When I arrived at 9 a.m. Friday, the office was quiet. The phone rang at 9:02, and I decided to field my first phone call as a Star reporter.

In my most professional voice I answered the phone with a brisk "Star!" only to be greeted by a woman calling from "Extra," the NBC-TV sex-and-celebrities tabloid news show, asking for information on our Martha Stewart story and a faxed copy of the article.

How did a woman who makes planters out of old baskets get to be so important?

"Hi, it's Cindy from 'Extra NBC.' We want to do a story on your Martha story."

"What?" I said. "On what?"

"On the story - and to air it tonight. Are you the reporter?"

"No, I'm sorry, the reporter is out today."

"Oh," Cindy said, is there "no way you can find her?"

She's at that bridal place in Brooklyn, someone in the newsroom said, remembering that Michelle Napoli had taken the day off to accompany her friend the bride-to-be to Kleinfeld's for a fitting.

"I got my bridal gown at Kleinfeld's!" offered Cindy - "NBC will go wherever Michelle is to talk with her. Can you reach her?"

Hmmmm.

"We care about your call," said Kleinfelds's voicemail . . . for almost 40 minutes. Through the miracle of fiberoptics, or whatever, I also tried the bridesmaids' department, the bridal appointments department, and finally alterations, where kind Elda promised that when the young women arrived - according to her schedule, by noon - she would relay the message.

"Hi, it's Michelle," said the voice on the phone about 20 minutes later. "What's the emergency?"

Call Cindy, I said. She got her wedding dress at Kleinfeld's, too.

Just as I pulled onto the L.I.E. in Woodbury, my pager beeped. 324-0002, it said. Probably just trying to let me know a friend was looking for me at the office. He'd found me at his sister's house, though. So it can wait till Brooklyn.

But when we arrived at Kleinfeld's, an anxious Elda passed a message: It was important I call Susan in East Hampton. Very urgent. Then I thought something was gravely wrong.

Turns out, though, it was about Martha. Martha, Martha, Martha. I was the (lucky?) reporter to have covered the story of her confrontation and possible arrest.

Reluctance to be on TV aside, I wasn't going to be back into East Hampton until 9 or 10 that night. That's okay, they'll send a crew to wherever you are, Susan informed me. Really? Really. Does Helen mind? No, go right ahead, she said.

Elda had climbed two flights of stairs to make sure everything was okay with me. Meanwhile, the bride-to-be already had her dress on, and I, the maid of honor, was missing it.

I called Cindy. Was it me who was getting married, she asked? No.

"Well, I'm here, so if you want to send a crew to me, I'll do the interview," I told her.

"Great. They'll be there between 1 and 1:15. His name is Guy."

Guy, a soundman, and a cameraman showed up about on time, and together we found a spot to film that wouldn't look too obviously like a Brooklyn sidewalk.

"Won't this seem funny, interviewing me here?" I asked.

Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do.

Maybe over here, where the rose bush is. Martha gives good tips on growing roses.

A passer-by wondered if I had won the Publisher's Clearing House sweep stakes. If only I were so lucky, I told him.

Instead, I got my two seconds of fame, enough time to say that yes, Martha Stewart and her neighbor, Harry Macklowe, had had tense relations for some time. If you blinked while watching "Extra" Friday night, you missed me.

Michelle Napoli, who wrote the Martha story, and Susan Rosenbaum, who found her at Kleinfeld's for "Extra," are Star reporters. Jonathan Steinberg is the intern whose first working day was more eventful than he'd expected. Irene Silverman, who edited Ms. Napoli's piece and talked to Page Six, is The Star's associate editor.

Like the rest of the South Fork, much of Wainscott's and Saga ponack's real estate activity is centered on gobbling up what little vacant land remains. This is the case, said Paul Brennan, the vice president of the local offices of Sotheby's International Realty, whether you're talking about a one-and-a-half-acre parcel or a 60-acre tract.

It's all a matter of "supply and demand," said John Leonard of John Leonard Properties in Sag Harbor. "There's nothing left. . . . What is left is very expensive." Mr. Leonard said he had seen prices in the area go up as much as 50 percent in the last 15 months, yet that hasn't slowed down property sales.

Bill McCoy, a partner in McCoy and McCoy Real Estate in Wainscott, confirmed this week that, in his neck of the woods, there's quite a bit of money floating around and "good properties don't stay on the market very long."

Large Farms For Sale

Historically farming communities, these two neighboring hamlets - one in East Hampton Town and the other in Southampton Town - continue to maintain their small-town appeal. Each still has its little red schoolhouse and stretches of farmland that offer fresh produce in season and vistas year-round.

More and more these days, however, instead of potatoes and corn the farmland in these primarily south-of-the-highway communities is sprouting houses and estates. Sotheby's last week advertised two large farm tracts under contract for sale - the 40-acre Szczepankowski farm (with buildings) in Wainscott and 60 agricultural acres of Cliff Foster's Sagaponack farm. However, these are likely to remain in agricultural use.

Driving Up Prices

The Wainscott farm is in contract for "under, but not by much" an asking price of $6.5 million, according to Mr. Brennan. The potential buyer, whose identity Mr. Brennan would not disclose, is interested in continuing the property's use as a farm.

The Sagaponack farm has been sold to Dan Shedrick, who owns a house in Bridgehampton. The asking price was $7 million. Though some of the property probably will be subdivided into large lots for houses, Lee Foster, Mr. Foster's wife, said a great portion of the land will remain in agricultural use. They "sold the diamond in order to keep the bracelet,"Mrs. Foster said.

Mr. Brennan noted that the buyer's plans reflected the trend toward oversized lots "to maintain a sense of space" for property owners.

The limited amount of vacant land has dampened the spirits of those who would prefer to build their own houses and has driven up asking prices for existing houses, Mr. Leonard said. He suggested that the high prices were slowing down sales of existing houses.

More Tear-Downs

And, because vacant land is all but gone, Mr. McCoy said he expected to see more tear-downs happen in Wainscott in the future, much like a phenomenon occurring in other parts of town where properties in particular areas are in high demand.

As for summer rentals this season in Wainscott and Sagaponack, there are mixed reports. Mr. Brennan said this year's rentals were "on par" with last year's. He said that average summer rentals range from $25,000 to $55,000 but that monthly rentals, especially for August, were off.

Plenty Of Rentals

Mr. McCoy was not as optimistic, saying that rentals "have not been good this year." He said there was quite a stock of rentals still available and that some renters have had to settle for less money or shorter-term leases.

Mr. Leonard said there are still plenty of rentals available, even though the busy Memorial Day weekend has passed, and that the prices are dropping.

"People who haven't rented now are calling and saying 'I'll take July, I'll take August,' which is something they haven't done before," said Mr. Leonard.