Every few minutes, without fail, Barbara Grant's phone rings. It doesn't matter that she's not at her office, fielding this onslaught of after-hours business calls. Instead, at 8 p.m., Grant is sitting cross-legged and barefoot in her Old City condominium, still solving problems long after the office has closed. The ringing stops for no more than a few minutes at a time. Grant takes it in stride, explaining that urgent business calls often occur long after midnight, sometimes even as late as three or four o'clock in the morning. Many nights, sleep is elusive. But without fail, after skillfully navigating through another situation threatening to ruin a perfectly fine day, Grant ends each conversation with her signature nonplussed sign-off, "OK. That's cool."

Barbara Grant has carved out a high profile for herself in this town. Besides being a daughter, a mother, a grandmother, a former dancer and a fledgling filmmaker, Grant is now in the thick of her second tenure as the director of communications for Mayor John Street's administration. Grant sees herself primarily as a producer. She says she likes to make things happen. At the moment, with her in-your-face job, Grant is responsible for making things happen every day. Whether it's finalizing the details of an upcoming press conference, ironing out travel arrangements for the mayor or making sure he returns his calls or honors his daily slew of appointments, her highly pressurized role in city government requires copious amounts of finesse and a whole lot of smarts.

Throughout his mayoralty, John Street has been widely criticized for being inaccessible -- particularly to the media. Other people who have worn Grant's shoes admit having had a hard time balancing the public's right to know with the mayor's somewhat standoffish personality. Observers say that Grant has been a tremendous help in changing the mayor's image. The real test, however, will be in November, when voters return to the polls to determine whether John Street really has what it takes to run this city for another four years.

A petite woman, Grant stands not much higher than five feet off the ground. She has a head full of long, thin dreadlocks, which she lovingly twists round her fingers, pins back to get off her face or lets drape on her shoulders. Grant wears delicate jewelry and oversized, round, wire-framed glasses and smiles a lot, showing off deep-set dimples. She is an energetic, engaged woman who seems to relish exacting work and who embraces the notions of God and family.

Since arriving in Philadelphia more than 30 years ago, Grant has had an assortment of excellent jobs. She has been a management consultant, a news director for WDAS radio, and a television news reporter, producer, editor and manager for KYW-3, WHYY, Fox-29 and WB17. In 1997, 20 years into her media career, Grant redirected her skills, taking on the role of executive assistant and director of communications for the School District of Philadelphia under then-Superintendent David Hornbeck. Four years later, she was tapped as press secretary in Mayor Street's new administration. Nine months in, Grant abruptly left the Street administration to return to familiar haunts, this time as an executive producer at Channel 3.

"I left the mayor's office for a job that I'd always wanted," Grant explains, hoping to dispel any thought that she shirked her responsibilities or had had some kind of falling out with John Street. "I had been offered an executive producer job at KYW. After everything else I had done [in media], it was a dream come true. It was the job I always wanted."

Raised in the Bronx, Grant came to Philly as a freshman at the University of Pennsylvania, class of '72. There, she met her future former husband, nailed a B.A. from Penn, an M.B.A. from its Wharton business school, had a son, moved to Chicago, yearned for Philly, came back -- and started working the crowds.

"When I went to Penn," Grant says, "there were 35 blacks in my freshman class. There were only 100 or so throughout the whole school. I got a world-class education and two degrees, but the experience as a black woman was emotionally traumatic. I was so alienated and alone. But through that experience, I learned that anything you survive makes you stronger."

After graduation, Grant headed to Chicago. With her Wharton M.B.A., it didn't take long to land a job as an assistant account executive at Leo Burnett, at that time the fifth largest ad agency in the world. But Grant was also a mother; finding reliable daycare for her young son was harder than she had expected. She says she decided to return to Philly (where she had family who could help out) and start a small consulting business with her husband, a Penn engineering graduate. After three years, Grant says she realized that she'd prefer simply to tell stories. To wet her feet in the media business, Grant started volunteering at her alma mater's radio station, WXPN-FM. Shortly thereafter, she was reporting for Unity Broadcasting's WDAS-FM, eventually becoming news director. Local television was her next logical professional frontier.

"I remember when the MOVE hearings were going on during the summer of 1985," recalls Roger LaMay, former news director at Fox-29, now general manager at WXPN-FM. The monthlong coverage focused on the aftermath of the bombing of the organization's West Philadelphia headquarters. "I believe that was [Grant's] television debut in Philadelphia on WHYY and I remember being very impressed by her and thinking, "I want to meet her.' I distinctly remember she was one of the brightest and most focused people I'd ever interviewed."

That interview yielded Grant a job at Fox. For six years, Grant worked under LaMay as a political reporter and public affairs producer. During her time there, she garnered a lot of on-air attention while also snagging a few Emmy nominations for her innovative programming.

"When you consider all the different roles she's been in over time, in some incredibly tough environments, she's managed to preserve her integrity," LaMay says. "Barbara is a person committed to making things better -- even if it means getting her hands dirty."

Grant's first political job offer in Philadelphia did not come from John Street.

"I"ve known and respected Barbara Grant for nearly 20 years as a top-flight journalist and communications specialist," says Gov. Ed Rendell. "In fact, I thought so highly of her that when I was elected mayor in 1991, I asked Barbara to serve as press secretary."

"I just wasn"t ready to leave the media at that time," she explains. "I was reporting and producing for Fox. I was enjoying my job."

Rendell apparently took the rejection with no hard feelings. "She"s a true professional," he says. "And whether it was working for the school district, or as Mayor Street"s spokeswoman, Barbara"s always done a great job -- good news judgment, always informed and easy to deal with."

"I think I know how difficult that job can be," says Feeley, who served Rendell as deputy mayor of communications from 1992 to 2000. "Sometimes it"s tough to keep your composure when you have to provide, yet not give, information at the same time," Feeley admits. "You have to be credible. Trying to get information from any mayor is tough. Believe me, I know. But Barbara does a very good job."

After Grant"s unexpected departure in October 2000, Luz Cardenas, first deputy director of communications, was catapulted into Grant"s role. The only full-time person with bona fide press experience in the office, she held the position for just over a year. Cardenas, who still works there, says it was a hard job that she loved.

"It was insane. I handled everything by myself," she says. "I had a lot of fun with the mayor and I actually thought the job was very exciting. You had your finger on the pulse of the city every day. But, I was new at this. I was grateful that the mayor was warm to me and took me under his wing. But with Barbara, he has a seasoned public relations expert with a tremendous journalism background. She knows all of the elements of what it takes to really do this job. You have to be a high-energy multitasker and a type-A personality but always remain very calm to handle the many storms that come your way. I absolutely love working with Barbara. You learn so much from her and she provides comfortable leadership."

Not long after Cardenas left on maternity leave, Frank Keel was tapped to replace her temporarily. But, due to complications after Cardenas gave birth, the three-month assignment stretched on beyond a year.

"It was the most physically and mentally demanding job I ever had," Keel says. "The barrage from the media was relentless, sometimes 40, 50, 60 calls a day. And that had to be combined with the need to work proactively with the mayor preparing speeches, arranging speaking engagements and things like that. With my Irish temper, though, I would not always keep my cool and composure. It's one quality I envy in Barbara."

Keel says that when he took over the job from Cardenas, he felt strongly that he had the mayor's ear and encouraged him to expand the understaffed office to contend with the incessant requests from newspapers and media outlets across the country. Keel says the mayor acknowledged the shortcoming and began working to change things. But he says it was Grant who actually made the difference. Under her stewardship, five people are now manning that office.

"Barb fought for a deeper pool of talent in the City Hall press office," he says. "I had something to do with that in trying to turn around the perception that the mayor was inaccessible. But Barb has turned it around completely. Now that criticism is no longer warranted. Barb"s been on both sides of the camera, giving her a unique perspective on what the media needs and how to provide it for them. These days, the mayor is extremely accessible as a byproduct of a reevaluation of the role of the media. The era of "no comment" and unreturned calls is over."

Mayor Street acknowledges that Grant's return to his administration has made both an obvious and a positive difference.

"When Barbara left, I think it kind of set us back in our communications efforts," he says. "Barbara has a lot of very good experience, so it created a little hole in our operation. I never dreamed I"d get her back. But I was very grateful when I did. Now we can respond in a much more systematic way. We"re more efficient since she"s been back."

The mayor says that Grant's extensive media career and her wide range of contacts has been an asset to his own endeavors.

"Barbara has a lot of history with the Philadelphia media that"s been very helpful to us. And, she has a great work ethic. She'll work 24 hours a day if she has to."

With his own reelection bid underway, Mayor Street says he knows a good thing when he sees it.

"I full well expect I'll be reelected," he predicts, "and I full well expect Barbara to be here with us when that happens."

A few weeks ago, the annual Army-Navy football game -- a long-standing Philadelphia tradition -- was on the day's agenda. A $17-million revenue boon for the city, the Street administration was anxious to nail this opportunity to host the classic sporting event for the next four years. Since 1899, the city has played host 76 times. Last year, however, New Jersey had the honor; wresting it back was a must. All morning, Grant had been polishing a letter for the 2003 Sunoco Welcome America! Festival, a newer city tradition, but this football battle, extremely important to the city, needed her immediate attention. The real game, however, was the politics being played in Grant's second-floor City Hall office. Grant says that the mayor had worked on securing this deal for months, but the day it finally came together, a few others who had merely helped in the process were trying to elbow in on the success. Among other things Grant had to fend off was an unscheduled -- and seemingly unnecessary -- press conference announcing the much-sought-after deal that would include Gov. Rendell, who just happened to be visiting the area that day. Ill timed, an impromptu press conference promised to adversely impact the already tightly scheduled day and perhaps shift well-deserved attention away from the mayor. Sorting through memoranda and Post-it notes askew on her cluttered, cherry wood desk, Grant navigated through phone calls, e-mails and BlackBerry text messages with acumen.

"It's good news for the world, but bad news for me because it's gonna throw my day off," Grant moaned. "I'm already overloaded."

After a flurry of calls, a rapid exchange of BlackBerry communiques ("This is the best way to reach the mayor," she explains) and a few more hastily jotted Post-it notes delivered by hand to her staff in the outer office, the pace began to slow.

"Crisis averted," Grant informed her team with a knowing smile. No press conference today. Then the phone started ringing again.

Grant's job is a tough one, by anyone's estimation. Managing the affairs of a mayor well known for his prickly ways at the beginning of his reelection campaign presents a set of challenges. In addition to working with members of his reelection staff to help manage an image that voters will continue to support, Grant has a wide range of her own specific tasks as director of communications.

"I have at least a half dozen things that have to get done today plus all the projects that are already on the burner," she says. Appearing small behind her large desk, her fingers are a blur as she types a text message while checking the mayor's schedule displayed on the computer screen over her shoulder. Post-it notes are going up everywhere ("This is my filing system," she jokes) as she methodically sorts through stacks of papers, shifting them from one side to the other. Staff member Joyce Bell, Grant's first line of defense from the outside world, informs her that three calls are waiting and that there have been a number of changes since earlier that morning. Without looking up from her desk, Grant acknowledges the glut of new information.

"OK. We're moving right along," Bell says, rushing out of the office to answer another call.

"That's my grandson, Justin," Grant gushes, pointing to two wallet-sized photos on display in her rose-colored office. "He's beautiful, talented and brilliant. I held him when he was just 23 hours old. Wow. It's just so exponentially different having a grandchild. You know that your own child did that -- and it's just incredible. These days, I'm in love with a younger man," she says of the 3-week-old.

Grant rises at 5 a.m. most weekdays to catch the morning news shows. She then scans the local papers and makes a few calls from home before arriving at the office at about 8:30 a.m. Leaving before 6:30 p.m. on any evening, she says, is a rarity.

"I can't remember ever having a nine-to-five job -- ever," she says. "I like being busy and productive and it's not so much about a job or this job. I don't want to sound zealous or corny but that's why I'm here. If you're lucky enough to do the work you want to do, you don't worry about the clock so much."

Grant is running about 20 minutes late for a lunch appointment. When she finally arrives at The Capital Grille, a bit out of breath, she is swarmed coming through the front door. "Barbara," someone in a party of six calls out. "I"ve been trying to reach you." On cue, Grant is surrounded by a bevy of strangers. Politely, she takes time to speak with each, assuring that she"ll return calls as soon as she finds time. She shakes an array of extended hands, exchanging pleasantries and business cards. Moving scarcely two feet further into the South Broad Street restaurant, Daily News editor Zack Stalberg offers a familiar greeting, detaining Grant yet a few minutes more. The effusive hostess then hustles to find a table for Grant, who has no reservation at this packed power-lunch venue. "This is the first time I"ve ever been here," Grant confides to her companion under her breath.

It"s hard to find someone who is willing to pick a bone publicly with Grant. Among City Hall reporters who say that because of her proximity to the mayor they have to preserve good relations with her, there is generally "no comment" when asked how she handles her job. But from the many high-powered professionals she"s worked with in this town, there are nothing but accolades.

"Barbara is one of the nicest, smartest, hardest working people I"ve worked with in my entire career," says former boss David Hornbeck. "She"s a person who believes it is, in fact, possible to make a difference -- despite the craziness that exists. I think the mayor is really lucky to have her there. She has enormous integrity and always tells the truth. Those are qualities that are most important, whether serving the mayor or the superintendent of schools."

"I was general manager at WDAS when Barbara Grant first came in as an intern," recalls Cody Anderson, now part of "WURD-AMs ownership group. Anderson says he met Grant at the start of her media career, nearly 24 years ago. "I was so impressed with her that I hired her right away. She"s a really decent and valuable human being who would be good at anything she wanted to do, given the opportunity to actually do the job she was hired to do."

In 2000, not long after becoming head press secretary for the newly formed Street administration, Grant was offered and then accepted her dream job at KYW: executive producer for special projects. It was something she says she was excited about taking on, even if it did run smack dab into her new, high-profile government position.

Current news director Susan Schiller says that Grant had an enormous coterie of important city contacts, coupled with an expansive knowledge of behind-the-scenes Philadelphia and a "great eye for city stories." Schiller says she decided that Grant was better suited to the role of senior planning editor. Without much warning -- or choice -- Grant went from supervising special features for the local CBS affiliate to planning and gathering news for five daily shows. Her "dream" stint was short-lived.

"Based on her previous experience as a reporter, her role in the school district and as a government administrator, I saw Barbara as an incredibly strong asset," says Schiller. "But I"m not the one who had hired her as an executive producer. A previous newsman made that hire and I really can"t speak to why that decision was made by senior management. But, when I took over, I reorganized the newsroom and I moved her to a different job.

"I don"t want to say anything bad, because I think she was fantastic," Schiller says. "Having Barbara was like having an inside reporter. She knew a lot of people, how the government worked and she also knew the streets. I felt we were in a battle [for ratings], and here she was, a scrapper and a fighter who could help our news organization. Honestly, I was stunned when she left."

Grant is guarded recounting her final days at KYW, saying only that she decided it was time to move on. She jokes that someone mentioned that the mayor was holding her old job for her, and after an apparently unwelcome job change at KYW, she leapt at the opportunity to return to the Street administration.

"I was disappointed when she left," says Schiller, "but I knew the mayor needed the best and the brightest. I was just glad that she didn"t go to the competition. I still haven"t replaced her, though. She had big shoes that are tough to fill and my standards are high."

Looking back, Grant says she feels lucky to have been given both the brains and the opportunity to have held so many prominent positions throughout her career.

"I"m probably working on my sixth life right about now," she chuckles. "We all have a reason to be here. Some of it is defined by what we do, but most of it is defined by who we are or who we hope to be. I thought that when I worked for the school district I was doing God"s work. It was difficult to keep in people"s minds that the kids came first. But what I learned at that job was that kids don"t vote.

"But I really do enjoy communications work and I like working for the mayor," she says. "It"s translating to people what the work of government is, what"s happening with their money and how policies affect their lives -- and it"s creative to be proactive about it. I look at the media as a feedback loop for public policy. And I"ve learned that government and media have a symbiotic and an antagonistic relationship to one another."

Even though spare time is scarce, Grant has other interests besides media and government. For one, she"s an admitted line-dance aficionado. "I did it for a time and I really liked it," she says. "There are a bunch of seniors in the area that are really good at it. We would get together at the Stardust Ballroom in Pennsauken, N.J. But, if you made the wrong move or turned in the wrong direction, you"d be bumped out of the way. The seniors really have that one sewn up," she laughs.

Additionally, Grant has discovered a new interest: video production. Squeezed into weekends over a six-month period, in collaboration with Philadelphia Urban CableWorks, Grant wrote and produced an hourlong documentary on the legendary African-American disc jockey Jocko Henderson. The late father of well-known WDAS-FM DJ Doug Henderson, Jocko Henderson came to prominence during the good old days of rock "n" roll. Henderson made history by becoming one of the first DJs to be syndicated in both New York City and Philadelphia. The film, Jocko: Soul of a Man, has been screened in more than 50 cities nationwide. Recently, Grant learned that it earned second place in the 2003 Telly Awards, a showcase founded in 1980 to recognize outstanding non-network and cable productions.

"I really loved making the film because I consider myself a storyteller," Grant says. "It was kinda like making a dress: Cutting the pattern, choosing the fabric and then deciding how it would look and feel. I"ve learned that I have a talent for looking at what"s needed and getting it done. I get a great deal of satisfaction making something from nothing."

Collaborator and editor Tim Curtis says he's looking forward to his next project with Grant.

"Barbara was an absolute pleasure to work with," says Curtis, an Urban CableWorks staff producer/director. "She was totally professional, working like a madman to get the script finished in just two weeks. She devoted a lot of time to the project, which I really appreciated, knowing how busy she is as the mayor"s press secretary."

One of her next film projects, she says, will be an exploration into the world of dreadlocks. Four years ago, Grant decided to dreadlock her own hair. After years of feeling obliged to maintain a conservative look considered mandatory for her high-profile television image, she describes the decision as "liberating."

"My hair is almost a political statement," she says, fingering one of the locks. "Growing up, I was taught that kinky hair was ugly hair and I spent a lot of time trying to conform. I decided that dreadlocks were the most natural way to wear my hair, while still being able to style it however I choose. What I would hope is that when young African-American women look at me, they know that they don"t ever, ever, ever have to suffer through the indignities and identity-robbing experiences that many have had to suffer through. If there"s one thing my hair accomplishes, I hope it"s that. Honestly, it"s the best thing I ever did for my hair. The [salon] process took 17 hours, cost me $600 -- and I filmed it."

Grant doesn"t spend a lot of time at home, but for the past four years, she has lived in a small but comfortable one-bedroom apartment, replete with an impressive living-room solarium, and conveniently located in Old City. In December, her 78-year-old mother moved in with her. Grant, a divorcee who was married for 15 years, says she enjoys living with her mom, who is wont to whip up a home-cooked meal or two. These days, though, with two grown women living in a one-bedroom apartment, Grant says she"s in the market for a bigger space somewhere in town.

With 35 years of residency under her belt, clearly Grant has made Philadelphia her home. Outgoing and congenial, Grant has made a lot of new friends since moving here. But she"s also maintained and nurtured relationships with important people from her past.

"I didn"t know that Barbara was going to be establishment, but she was always powerful," says Paula Matabane, a Howard University professor of communications whom Grant describes as one of her oldest and dearest friends. "She never could play a shallow game -- and that"s how I see politics. I really didn"t see her going that way and I can"t say I saw it coming, but it makes sense to me, because Barbara is brilliant."

Meeting as roommates at Penn, the two have shared an unbroken friendship for three-and-a-half decades.

"Barbara is playing by her own rules," Matabane says. "I can"t see her doing it any other way. Even as a journalist, she was always concerned about the state of the people -- the underdog, the oppressed. Her spirituality has always given her a deep concern for those people who are living on the edge."

Though Grant would never describe herself as a Bible-thumper, she says that in a hectic world, her relationship with God keeps her centered.

"My whole spiritual path and walk are extremely important to me," Grant says. "I'm a basic Baptist, but I sit in the back of the room and then I come out and do my thing. " I regard yoga as part of my spiritual practice. Yoga keeps you in the flow of life. It lets the body"s natural intelligence take over."

Twice a week, time permitting, Grant treks to the Sporting Club for yoga classes. Peeling out of her work clothes, Grant seems at ease in her oversized T-shirt and black leotards. In the quiet, dimly lit room, with a dozen other yoga lovers, Grant attempts to unwind after one of her average, excruciatingly tense days at City Hall. She is surprisingly limber, assuming with facility many of the twisted positions that appear challenging for the others.

"We're searching for the seat of the soul," the group leader says softly. "Lift your hips to the sky as your heels find their way to the ground. Notice the quality of the breath; notice the quality of the mind."

Stretched out on a rubber mat, Grant is soothed by the melodic incantations. After a rigorous round of stretches and exercises, culminating with an attempt to master the art of handstands, everyone seems to have found nirvana. The leader instructs the class to fully unwind by lying flat and closing their eyes. Stillness overtakes the room; no one moves or speaks. Here, after another trying day at the office and a well-placed and much-needed spiritual workout, now flat on her back, with her eyes closed, a weary Barbara Grant savors her last, but maybe most important, accomplishment of the day: Fifteen uninterrupted minutes of deep, sound sleep. In the recesses of her mind she knows that somewhere a phone is ringing. But this time, they'll just have to leave a message.