HE SCENE On Tuesday, behind a black curtain in a corner of the Jacob Javits Center, the Manhole Cover World Forum came to order. With an audience of about a dozen, it was not quite the global event its name suggested. But it was every bit as surreal.

There were mini-manhole cover sugar cookies, manhole cover tables and plastic cups with manhole cover stickers on the manhole cover tables. There were manhole cover pins, along with manhole cover art and six real-life manhole cover experts (not including a lecturer from Princeton University, who acted as moderator), all eager to wax about the importance of manhole covers in city life.

Someone had forgotten to set up chairs for the audience, and the ventilation system drowned out the doleful efforts of two violinists. Still, audience members could order martinis at the furniture fair on the other side of the curtain.

THE BUZZ The grand dame of manhole covers, the Manhole Cover Lady (whose real name is Diana Stuart but who enjoys going by the moniker of her calling) said she had just written a book about New York's beautiful and historic manhole covers. Actually, what she said was:

"These covers are an integral part of the New York City pavement and are clearly permanent. Now we must preserve the history of New York City for future generations. These foundries" - she meant the old foundries that produced many manhole covers - "were the iron backbone of New York City; they built New York City in the 19th century. This craft would have been lost - it would have gone unrecognized - had it not been for my book."

Several panelists exchanged glances. It turns out there is a schism in the world of manhole covers. There are those, like artists, who prize a manhole cover for its form. And others, like, say, Con Edison workers, place a greater value on its function.

The Manhole Cover Lady, who is middle-aged with prim hair and apparently a predilection for looking down when she walks, has her feet planted firmly in both camps. She would like manhole covers to be prized for their craftsmanship and to be guaranteed a spot under traffic for generations to come.

Two representatives from Con Edison were on the panel. (They were among the ones who exchanged glances when the Manhole Cover Lady spoke.) Apparently, they were familiar with her passionate brand of manhole cover appreciation.

"As a company, we're not opposed to preserving the manhole covers," one Con Edison representative said diplomatically at one point. "But by the same token, public safety comes primarily."

The event ended with opening the floor to the audience.

There were the typical novice questions, like the one about why a manhole is called a manhole. But there were more complex points raised. A man in khaki shorts seemed pained by the metaphysical fact that one preserves a manhole by driving over it. How to honor form and function simultaneously?

The aesthestic issues were especially thorny. Would anyone really stop in a traffic lane to admire a manhole cover?

And just which were worth special attention? It was suggested that distinguishing between the Mona Lisas of manhole covers and all others might winnow the field.

"There are so many!" exclaimed the Manhole Cover Lady, pointing out that her new book has over 400 pictures of manhole covers. "There are ones so beautiful, I'm afraid someone is going to steal them."

A member of the audience held up a large photo of what he considered the Mona Lisa of manhole covers. But as she was in Boston, not New York, the world forum quickly lost interest and adjourned.