"Good morning, Chicago. I’m Robin Baumgarten in SKYCAM 9!" The familiar voice of Chicago’s Traffic Diva is off and running.

Baumgarten gets a kick out of traffic, but that’s not all there is to flying around in SKYCAM 9. While she admits that few actually think they’re going do traffic when they break into broadcasting – "I thought, ‘traffic’. . . Oh, great!" she says sarcastically, she appreciates the traffic beat for the hellish highways and the hard-breaking news coverage that come with the territory. Proudly, she says: " The opportunity of being in the helicopter we have, I’m usually the first on the scene when things happen."

With about ten minutes until the next "hit" – that’s what the traffic-types call the sky-high traffic reports -- she and the crew get down to business. Baumgarten’s assistant in the studio, 25-year-old Lara Mondragon, is just one voice that echoes through the headphones, and she keeps Baumgarten informed of the latest on the pavement. The breaking news is a vehicle that has reportedly crashed into a building downtown at the corner of Ontario and St. Clair. Time is of the essence, and Baumgarten is in a race against the clock to produce a shot that counts. With SKYCAM 9 whizzing toward the north face of Sears Tower and then veering due east, she strategizes with her cohorts about the best shot. Hovering above the intersection, only the back end of a white van can be seen sticking out the front end of a corner-lot highrise. Simultaneously, Capt. Don twirls SKYCAM 9 around while Suarez manipulates the gyrocam from the panel on his lap. He concentrates on the screen in front of him to perfect the angle he’s getting on the asphalt. Getting a clear picture that Robin can use to best tell the story in the next hit is the ultimate goal. The deadline looms: "Zoom in a little bit more, baby, we’ve gotta get this shot," she says to Vic, directing with firm control. "Can you get a little closer over there, Don?" This newsroom trio acts as a team, but it’s clear who’s boss in SKYCAM 9.

Seconds are ticking away, and the tail end of Paul Konrad’s daytime temperature report is seen on a small television screen in the cabin. Traffic is up next. Again, the brush glides through her hair, and she sprays a quick dab of hairspray. "It looks like I’m always brushing my hair, doesn’t it?" she says, embarrassed. "Headphone hair, you know." Swivel around again, Robin, the lights are on ya’, baby. BAM!

"We’re back in SKYCAM 9, Chicago!" When the light goes on, so does Baumgarten, almost making you forget that just minutes before, she was frantically sky-scrambling to get a newsworthy shot. She reports on the sandwiched white van and moves on to her trademark traffic tantra. "Pull out your pencils and score cards, folks, I’ve got your times for ya’." Lights off, and travel times are flashing across the screen. As she chatters on about gaper’s delays and the tough stuff on the tollways, she plays with her fingernails and twists the cameo ring on her right hand. Occasionally she gets animated and gestures toward the jam packed highways below like she was speaking to a crowded room.

"The Kennedy coming in not bad, 30 minutes, 35 heading outbound. Both of your outbound delays still west of Montrose. Stevenson – slow pockets around the Des Plaines River and then again central to Kedzie, but not too bad." With Baumgarten, it’s not just what she says, but how she says it. Whipping traffic times off her tongue, her delivery of lane-changing lingo has made her a morning hit.

After all, something has to make you stand out from the rest, especially in the competitive morning news show market. One of Baumgarten’s competitors is Sheila White, the Fox reporter in AIRFOX 9. They have the right idea by using the helicopter, but White’s reporting takes the more "I’m reporting the news" approach. And Roz Varon of Channel 7 is more traditional, delivering traffic times while pinpointing problem spots on a map. But Baumgarten does something special – she has that knack of connecting with the Chicago viewer.

Majoring in broadcast journalism at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign wasn’t something she mapped out. When it came time to pick a major on her college application, she just checked the box that said "Communications major" because she didn’t know what she wanted to do. That eventually blossomed into broadcasting after she worked part-time at the college radio station. She graduated in 1990 and planned on a career with CNN in Atlanta, but since journalism pay scales are weak, not to mention moving costs that weren’t included, Baumgarten decided that sticking around Chicago was her best bet. She did an internship for ABC Sports, travelling around to college football games "gathering stats and running around and basic intern stuff," she says, before landing her first real job as a "driver" with Chicago-based Shadow Broadcast Services.

"She was sorta like a pain in the rear," jokes her first boss, Rick Sirovatka, vice president of operations and programming for Shadow. He says that she bugged him with persistent phone calls two and three times a day before he decided to give her a crack at it.

Shadow Broadcast Services produces syndicated news for more than 50 local television and radio stations on traffic, sports, weather and entertainment. In her early days at Shadow, Baumgarten’s job as "driver" meant she spent eight hours a day roaming around Chicago in a Ford Bronco checking on accidents and rush-hour delays. She cringes when she says it was probably the worst five months of her life, despite all she learned on the job. She eventually landed a spot doing radio traffic reports for "The Johnathan Brandmeir Show" on WLUP-AM, and stayed there until she snagged the job at WGN.

"I get cranky when the air conditioner in the helicopter doesn’t work," Baumgarten says when asked what upsets her about the daily rides.

"Ah, just buy her some donuts and that usually calms her down," Capt. Don shoots back in retaliation. "When was the last time you were nice to me?" she ping-pongs in return.

But it’s not just at Meigs. She and the in-studio anchors are known for doing the back-and-forth comedy show. On air, Robin Baumgarten can tell you where to find spectator slowing, but at the same time she’s kinda sassy and always one-upping her co-hosts with japery jabs. But is that the real Baumgarten?

"Without a doubt," says Bill Weir, sports anchor for the Morning Show. "Robin is a Southside girl, salt of the earth, who’s quick on her feet with quick wit. If I throw something off-the-wall, she can bounce it right back."

Sirovatka, recognizing her talent early on, credits her Chicago edge as part of the appeal: "Robin is probably so successful on-air because she can bring her Chicago personality on air without being offensive. You can tell she’s from the area and that makes people very comfortable."

So she’s not performing. Baumgarten can’t act anyway. It’s Struggling Actor Week on The Morning Show, and weatherman Paul Konrad was digging at her in an earlier report about her acting talent, or lack thereof. With a couple of minutes left before lift-off, she puts out the cigarette and admits she’s not the best actress but loves movies, especially the cheezy ones like "Flashdance" and "Grease," which she’s seen easily more than 100 times.

"I’m a big Rizzo fan," she says, referring to the rough-and-tough, brassy Pink Lady role made famous by Stockard Channing in the original film version of "Grease." "I even get a lot of people who say I look like Stockard Channing or Rosie O’Donnell, neither of which I find to be very flattering," she says. "That’s like telling a blonde that they look like Sally Struthers." (Rosie O’Donnell played Rizzo in a recent Broadway production of "Grease.")

The two met back in the fall of 1994 when they were both doing work for CLTV, but as Piacente puts it, "we were both dating other people at the time, so nothing happened." As fate would have it, their paths crossed again at WGN, only this time Piacente would be producing The Morning Show, while Baumgarten had already been on staff for awhile.

According to Piacente, a native of Highland Park, he and Baumgarten started to date back in December 1995. Both admit they kept it quiet, not quite knowing what the response would be from the rest of the staff or the Tribune Company, owners of WGN. "We even kept it quiet from the other anchors on the show when we went out as a group," Piacente says. When they decided to make their engagement public last March, there were absolutely no problems at the station. The Morning Show even announced the coupling on air and asked that Baumgarten slip a bridal veil on her head during a traffic hit. They couple plans to marry in March 1998.

Professionally, the jovial Piacente says being his fiance’s boss isn’t as tough as people might think. "I spend about 30 minutes with her in the studio, and that’s about it. She doesn’t expect anything special from me." He adds that WGN is lucky to have Baumgarten handling her beat, because "you’re not going to find anyone in the business who handles traffic as well as Robin does . . . and that isn’t biased."

Personally, he feels like the Tom Arnold of Chicago, being involved with a "local celebrity" and all. "Some people still think she’s dating Paul Konrad," he says, laughing about the duo’s on-air routine. Hanging out in Lakeview, where they both live but in separate places, Piacente says it’s not uncommon for "fans" to approach her and ask about the helicopter rides. Around the station, too, he says, she also gets her fair share of complimentary fanfare, such as phone calls, e-mail messages and even requests from viewers who want a SKYCAM 9 Fly-By, just to wave hello to the crew.

How did he know she was the "one?"

"I never met anyone I clicked with so well. She’s so down-to-earth," says Piacente.

As the crew lines up SKYCAM 9 directly above the building below, Suarez gets a shot of a few men in FBI regalia down below. The screen flashes back to The Morning Show, and a male hairdresser is demonstrating how to get rid of the summer frizzies. It’s now clear there’s a method to the madness. The shot is set, she straightens her blouse and then runs the brush through her hair all over again. Swivel around one last time, Robin, the lights are on ya’, baby. BAM!

"I don’t even want to talk about it," she says and then takes a pause. "OK, I drive a Saturn, but I don’t want to get into it."

She does get into it, and complains how in less than one year, her 1997 gold Saturn has broken down three or four times. Plans to write a scathing letter to the company are on the backburner.

 "I think if a mechanic is driving a bad car, then you know he’s a bad mechanic, but really, I don’t know any more about cars than anyone else."