When people with basement apartments tried to collect on their flood insurance, they found benefits were limited because the government defines "basement" as a place containing little of value. So in December Zimmer traveled to Washington and urged a Senate committee to change insurance rules she considers fundamentally unfair to people whose flooded basement homes contained everything they owned. By February she was making national news with a proposed "universal solution" that would use state and federal money to protect the city with walls, floodgates, absorbent "green" roofs and a mini-power grid. Pioneering this approach, she hopes, would make Hoboken a model for other coastal cities.

Though her parents in Laconia, N.H., marvel at her poise on the national stage, Zimmer sees her appeal as primarily logistical: "We're right near the New York media market, and I'm much more accessible than Mayor Bloomberg." Her proudest accomplishments are more personal. After she had visited an elderly woman who uses oxygen, for instance, and persuaded her to evacuate, the woman's son told her, "You saved my mother's life."

She's proud that in a city whose politics can be notable for nastiness, the storm brought people together, thanks in part to her staff's communication efforts: in person, through traditional media, and especially on social media. Hoboken is a bedroom community; most residents leave it to go to work. After the storm, stuck at home, people met their neighbors as they hunted for food or a place to charge their phones. Clustered in building lobbies around a power strip, they talked about how they could help.

Photo by Michael Bocchieri/Getty

"Through the incredible teamwork that happened, we were able to keep our community safe," Zimmer says. Though 40 people died elsewhere in New Jersey, "no one in Hoboken died as a result of this storm."

She calls it public service, not politics. And when Zimmer started moving in that direction, some in Hoboken were skeptical. What did a former public relations executive know about running a city? She understood the doubts; she had a few herself. "But as it turns out," she says, "communication is one of the most important parts of this job. I've done pretty well because I know how to communicate."

The urge to communicate has taken her around the world. After graduating with a degree in history, Zimmer lived for two years on Japan's southern island of Kyushu, teaching English from morning till evening. When she left, she spent eight months traveling, then returned home and wondered how to put those experiences to use. Though she'd always pictured herself in New England, she landed in Manhattan at a global public relations firm where her clients included the Japanese consulate and her duties came to include crisis communications.

She married Stan Grossbard, who runs his family's diamond business, and soon there she was, eight years into a New York life, with a job, a husband, a baby and a toddler. Slowing down a bit was already sounding good when Sept. 11 happened. That was the final push; within a year the family had moved to Hoboken. It seemed the perfect compromise between the city enthusiasms of her husband, a lifetime New Yorker, and her own affection for the small-town feel of Laconia, where she grew up. Hoboken has diversity: Italian, Hispanic, Asian and African American communities; senior citizens; and a recent influx of young professionals and families. It's one of the most densely packed places in the country, "but I love its neighborhood feel," Zimmer says. "When you go out walking, you see people you know."

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