Published: July 26, 2003

Edition: METRO

Section: NEWS

Page#: 1B

THE ORIGINAL LAKE HARRIET ELF (In business since 1995)

A COMPETING LAKE HARRIET ELF (Now open, 30 yards away)

By Paul Levy; Staff Writer

He's only 6 inches tall, so the Lake Harriet elf might feel foolish pounding on a tiny door at the base of a neighboring tree and declaring, ``This lake ain't big enough for both of us.''

There apparently is a new elf in town. And that's huge.

For eight years, children of all ages have left cards and letters inside the wee wooden door at the foot of a green ash along Lake Harriet's scenic southern shore. This, according to legend, is the home of a mysterious little elf, who leaves dated, personalized responses on silver cards smaller than Post-it Notes to each of the estimated 1,500 letters he receives each summer.

But now Mr. Little Guy has competition. Thirty yards east of the thin, legendary ash by Lake Harriet's walking path stands another tree with another tiny door - one crammed with rain-dampened letters featuring children's scribbles and drawings.

``Our society is based on competition, sure, but couldn't they go to another lake?'' asked Kim Cooke, 44, whose two young children have been leaving the original elf notes for years.

As Cooke's dog, Ginger, sniffed the tree with the new door at its base, Cooke said, ``When I saw it, I thought maybe it's an in box and the other tree is the out box.''

It's a complex case with lots of ins and lots of outs, certainly.

The identities of the elves - assuming they really are elves and there's more than one - remain shrouded in secrecy.

``Do they live in the ground?'' asked Hannah Brausen, 5, of Shorewood.

Nobody seems to know. It is not certain if the elves have petitioned to have a light-rail line pass beneath and connect the new tree home to the home of the original elf. That tree is surrounded by a flower garden, brick-high stone wall and was recently decorated with two miniature American flags.

Nobody knows if the elves have even met. Potential sources such as the Keebler elves and Santa Claus could not be reached for comment.

But dog walkers, strollers, runners, bicycle riders and curious children have discovered several clues since opening the door to the Lake Harriet elf's world. For instance, within the tree's hollow area behind the door one recent day, passersby found a plastic bag with nearly 200 lengthy, computer-printed responses to children's inquiries.

``How nice of you to write. Sorry I was not here,'' the responses all begin.

Read on and learn that the elf's name is Thom, even though he always signs as Mr. Little Guy. His wife's name is Martha and their daughter Alta Lucia is 9. The elf says he's taller than his younger brother and shorter than his older brother. They all like to samba.The elf eats minnow cake and pizza, loves baking chocolate chip cookies and gets a lot of his jokes from ladybugs. He cooks on a grill made from a walnut shell. His bicycle is the size of a mushroom. His bedroom is wallpapered with notes written by ``big people.''

But even before the new elf moved in, it had been a tough month for The Little Guy. Dozens of his recent responses included the story of the bottle rocket that caught his coat while whizzing by on July 4th, carrying the startled elf across Lake Harriet. He also wrote about pesky squirrels throwing nuts at him.

At least young Adam Brausen, of Shorewood, returned the 15 cents he found inside The Little Guy's door. ``I guess he needs it,'' said Adam, 9. ``But the other elf may need it more. His door isn't as nice.''

Unlike the original door, the new one does not fit snugly into a hollowed area of a tree. In fact, the door and its highly visible frame seem oversized. The space the door covers is an indentation small enough to cramp any elf's style.

``It's not as creative as the original,'' commented Mary K. Roberts, 56, of Eden Prairie. ``More is not necessarily better.''

And the original Lake Harriet elf is a good thing, according to strollers who believe in the elf's existence.

The orignal elf, who spoke on condition of anonymity, professed not to be worried about competition. One reason is the workload.

``No one knows how hard it is answering all those letters,'' he said Friday as he prepared for a dinner party, lamenting that he's 60 people behind in answering letters.

``While I've tried to get in contact with my other elf, unfortunately he's even more elusive than I am. I walked over with a gumdrop, but unfortunately no one was home.''

The fact that the elf presence is spontaneous, not created by officialdom, is appreciated.

``What's great is that this is not the Chamber of Commerce trying to increase tourism,'' said Rick Miller, 56, of Minneapolis. ``This is advertising that is strictly word of mouth. Look how it's steamrolled.''

``Enjoy the summer,'' the elf always writes. ``I believe in you.''

And people who frequent Lake Harriet believe in the elf.

Maybe both of them.