HARBOR CITY GATOR STORY ISN'T A CROCK CRITTER EVADES HUNTERS IN PARK.

Byline: Dana Bartholomew Staff Writer

How many men does it take to snare a 6- to 8-foot alligator lurking like the Loch Ness Monster in a Los Angeles area pond?

Try an army of city park rangers and dog catchers, two gator wranglers from Colorado and, as of Tuesday, a crack team of four professional alligator handlers from Gatorland, Fla.

But not even the savviest gatorhounds could catch the man-size reptile - with a thumb-size brain - that some residents have dubbed ``Carlitos'' at Machado Lake in Harbor City.

``I'm lookin' for that (S.O.B.),'' said Tim Williams, dean of gator wrestling at Gatorland in Orlando, Fla., chomping on a cheap cigar on the shore of the boomerang-shape lake.

``Everything that's gone screwy has gone screwy. There's been high winds. A full moon. Furthermore, he's scared. All we need now is the Shriner band to march through and make a ruckus.''

What many now believe to be an American alligator has eluded authorities for two weeks at Ken Malloy Regional Park, about 20 miles south of downtown Los Angeles.

City park officials mounted a 24-hour vigil. City dogcatchers set up a 12-foot gator box with rolls of wire fencing. Boats and spotlights and dragnets were deployed.

And last week, two Crocodile Dundee-style alligator wranglers from Colorado got within 10 feet of the 150-pound critter as hundreds of spectators streamed into the park, some wearing ``Catch me if you can'' T-shirts.

But what many believe to be an Alligator mississippiensis has beaten them all.

As the four Gatorland hunters began their hunt with a wish to take L.A.'s only known gator back to Orlando, officials hoped what could be known as Alligator losangelesiensis would remain at home.

``Wait a minute, this is our gator,'' declared City Councilwoman Janice Hahn, whose district encompasses the creature from Lake Machado and who canceled a vacation for a self-described ``gator watch.'' ``They've got enough gators in Florida.''

If caught, the alligator would be housed at the Los Angeles Zoo for a 90-day quarantine while officials decide where to put it.

Meanwhile, residents have argued about what to call the animal last seen a week ago where he used to slither in at dusk for evening tortillas tossed by parkgoers.

Which is precisely why many in the largely Latino area of Harbor City want to call him ``Carlitos.'' Some kids suggested ``Snappy.'' Others, including Hahn, opted for ``Harbor City Harry.''

``I think it's a male,'' Hahn said. ``He seems to have a fear of commitment - and he's never where he should be.''

``I think it's the most intelligent gator in the history of Los Angeles,'' added Kevin Regan, assistant general manager for the Los Angeles Department of Recreation and Parks. ``He's the 'L.A. Gator.'''

To protect residents from the reptile's fearsome teeth, a 30-foot perimeter had been set up at Ted Malloy Harbor Regional Park, a haunt, residents said, for gang members, transients and day laborers.

A news media gaggle scanned 53 acres of steely waters as the Gatorland hunters prepared to walk every two hours around the dozen acres of tules and floating primrose in search of signs of their prey.

Led by Williams from ``the alligator capital of the world'' in Orlando, the Fast Alligator Retrieval Team was on a pro bono mission for Los Angeles that will end Friday.

The goal: to spot the gator. To get close to the gator. Then to ``lay your hands on him and don't let go,'' said Flavio Morrissey, a Gatorland hunter in shorts and Tevas surveying a table covered with ropes, nooses and fishing rods to help with the job. Nearby sat a canoe and three ocean kayaks.

``They're very scaly - you have to know their moves. They move from side to side. You just get around their teeth,'' Morrissey said.

``Alligators are pretty smart,'' added Williams, who has 30 years' experience in wrestling gators in the Florida swamps. ``A lot of people think they're stupid animals. They've a brain the size of your thumb. But they deserve some credit.''

One man drove all the way from Lancaster - wearing an Izod alligator polo - to witness a catch.

``As long as he's safe,'' said Gregory Ray, 39. ``Some guy said he would catch him with a rope, with jeans and no shoes and a vest.''

Eighty-six-year-old Edith Kuntz sang ``See you later, alligator; after awhile, crocodile,'' as she fed some geese, food for thought for hungry gators.

And one elderly couple gathered for a ``gator picnic,'' though they differed on the fate of the L.A. alligator.

``I'm afraid of him,'' said Marie Torres, 75, of Harbor City. ``Take him away. Put him in a place where he belongs, ... Florida.''

``They should put a big barrier around the (lake); this should be his home,'' countered her husband, Wilfred, 76. ``Leave him alone; this is his paradise.

``Tortillas, he can get some ducks and make a torta.''

Dana Bartholomew, [phone]

dana.bartholomew(at)dailynews.com

CAPTION(S):

photo

Photo:

Tim Williams arrives from Florida to help catch an alligator in L.A.

Steven Georges/Staff Photographer