Published: July 4, 1995

Section: NEWS

Page#: 01A

Lake walkers leave notes for tree elf, and he writes back

By John Windrow; Staff Writer

Yes, Virginia, there is an elf.

He lives in the City of Lakes, down the garden path where the fountains sparkle in the sunshine and the lush, perfumed roses bob in the breeze like ballerinas on their toes.

Down where the ducklings scatter and bunch up like bits of fluff on the crisp lake water, where the big fish leap and make silver plumes splash against the bright blue sky.

If you walk around a certain lake (we won't say which one, but watchful lake visitors will know) and keep your eye on the ground - not on the leafy bowers overhead, not on the shining downtown skyline across the water, not on the elegant "V" of geese on the horizon - no, on the ground, you may spy a chipmunk-size door at the base of a tree.

It's a very handsome door, wooden with ornate hinges and a lion's head with a knocker in his teeth. That's where the elf takes his ease in his cabin by the lake.

Those regulars who jog, skate, skip, stroll and bike about the lakes have never seen the elf, but they do correspond.

The 5:45 Running Group recently left a note behind the door and received a reply in tiny, elegant type, thanking them for writing and asking that they run softly so as "not to wake me when you run by. The Missus and I like to sleep in. Have a nice day and be sure to do your stretching exercises."

Another note says: "Dear Matt B., A troll like me can't have too many fishing poles. Thank you."

Caroline and Duncan Otis of Minneapolis check on the elf's house daily. They said people regularly leave notes and gifts, tokens of affection: toys, coins, trinkets and baubles. The elf always replies in his neat, typed script, referring to himself as Mr. Little Guy, Thom, Elf and Troll.

"I thought it was originally a romantic gesture between two people," Caroline said. "But, clearly, someone stopped and left notes, probably children, and it snowballed."

Duncan sat by the elf's door, gazing at the lake. "It makes a magical place even more so," he said.

"But what a thrill," Caroline said. "Can you imagine a little boy or a little girl leaving a note for Mr. Troll and coming back in a day or two and there's an answer? What a wonderful experience."

She left Mr. Troll a note of her own. "You're adding lots to everyone's summer, a lot of magic." She also alerted him that a reporter was "checking out your house as I write." Caroline departed with a warning not to break the spell. "We shouldn't know who he is," she said.

Other notes:

"Dear Gillan, Sonia, Kate and Elizabeth, Thank you for the stickers. They were so nice I have put them up in my bedroom and look at them every night before I go to bed. This is my cabin. My real home is farther away. . . . You have to be really sharp to see me."

He refers often to his fishing exploits and urges Rachel, Robby and Martin to try minnows fried in olive oil.

Another letter addressed to Lindsay thanks her for the gift of a wreath and assures her that "I'll try not to fall in the lake. But, you know, the other day I did just that. I was fishing not too far from here when a big minnow caught my line and I went flying."

Lois Stahl and Millie MacDonald of Minneapolis stopped to open the door and peek inside. They said the elf has received flowers, a toy locomotive, a leprechaun, pog stickers and a piggybank.

"We always check to see," Lois said.

A lady named Ella happened by (she didn't care to give her last name) and said she photographed the troll's digs one day, but passersby thought she was taking a portrait of a nearby portable toilet. She fears they may have considered her a bit eccentric.

Peter Cornelison of Minneapolis also goes trolling when he walks around the lakes. He's a big fan. "I think it's a great idea," Peter said. "It's created a whole lot of interest with the people who walk regularly. The guy who started it deserves a pat on the back."

Then who should come thundering up but the 5:45 Running Group? Pat Faunce, Maisie Cromie and their friends, all regular elf correspondents, run the lakes Monday through Friday at 5:45 a.m. "We run whether it's 40 below or 90 above," Pat said. They said they love every moment of it because it makes them "feel healthy, strong and Amazonian."

Pat offered an interesting insight into the natures of the lakes. Lake Harriet is the "small-town, family lake." Calhoun is the "active, jet-set lake" and, for her, Lake of the Isles is the "intellectual lake."

So which one does our elf-troll favor? What kind of guy is he? Is Mr. Little Guy sitting on the sandy shore of Lake Calhoun with a tiny boom box? Composing existential verse in some dreamy, secluded fen at Lake of the Isles? Being comfy and down-home at Lake Harriet? Take a stroll and seek out his door; leave a note.

A reporter left his card inscribed, "Mr. Troll, who are you? Inquiring minds want to know." But the scribe went away with the feeling that the elf doesn't go on record with the press. And remember, you have to be really sharp to see him.