Among Times Square Elmos, Relief to Be Rid of the Profane One The pedestrian plazas of Times Square are prime territory for the Elmo impersonators of New York, who, dressed as the familiar, cuddly monster from Sesame Street, compete for tourists" camera lenses and cash. But there was one Elmo who not only drove tourists off, but made his fellow Elmos back nervously away. On Monday, the day after the police ejected a man wearing the furry, red costume from Central Park for exploding into an obscenity-laced rant, other Elmos around New York said they recognized the man from previous clashes and expressed hope that his brush with the law would help their trade's reputation. In between posing for photos and harassing tourists for tips, the offending Elmo would often treat tourists and fellow Sesame Street impersonators alike to xenophobic and anti-Semitic tirades. The man in the costume, whose name was not released because he was not arrested, was taken to Metropolitan Hospital Center for a psychological evaluation, the police said on Monday. The man would shout "crazy stuff" about the other impersonators, said Luis, 25, a Peruvian immigrant who has been donning an Elmo suit for about six months. He often worked the pedestrian plaza on Broadway between 42nd and 43rd Streets, where Luis and a few other men in furry suits ambled from street corner to street corner Monday afternoon, keeping a wary distance from one another. "He would stop and say that we were all illegal immigrants and that people shouldn't have their photos taken with us," said Luis, who would not give his last name. Whenever he saw the shouting Elmo, Luis said, he would move to another part of Times Square. After the episode on Sunday, YouTube videos began to circulate showing a costumed Elmo haranguing passers-by in Central Park and outside the Toys "R" Us store in Times Square. It is impossible to say if he is the same Elmo - he is, after all, encased head-to-toe in red, synthetic fur - but the arrested impersonator and the one in the videos both wear kneecaps, "to take pictures with kids," as the Elmo in one of the videos explains. "If you start your own business in this city, Jews will harass you!" he shouts in a video shot in Central Park, prompting a woman to gasp and say, "That is the scariest Elmo I've ever seen in my life!" On Sunday afternoon, several police officers surrounded an Elmo by the entrance to the Central Park Zoo as he shouted anti-Semitic abuse to the crowd, said Claire Duffin, a visitor from Britain, who witnessed and filmed the incident. A spokesman for the Sesame Street Workshop, the nonprofit group that produces "Sesame Street," said the organization had no comment on the arrest. "The "Sesame Street" Muppets are known the world over, and we do not condone unauthorized representations of our characters," a statement released Monday said. Companies may disapprove, but the impersonators rarely, if ever, face any legal challenges, said Paul Goldstein, a Stanford Law School professor who specializes in intellectual property law. For one thing, there are too many of them, not just in Times Square but around the world. For another, the threat impersonators pose to the brand is usually too small to warrant an expensive lawsuit. "You can't just stamp out every little fire," Mr. Goldstein said. Besides, a lawsuit could be tricky to win. Unlike a street vendor who sells fake Louis Vuitton handbags, impersonators could argue that their Dora the Explorer or Spider-Man acts do not compete directly with the company's ability to make money. Trademark holders like Disney and Nickelodeon would prefer, of course, not to have people impersonating their famous and profitable characters. Elmo is so exemplary that he once testified before Congress on the need for increased financing for music education. Fake Minnie Mouses and SpongeBob SquarePants - or Elmos spewing anti-Semitic chants - can tarnish a brand that companies have worked hard to establish as kid-friendly and clean, Mr. Goldstein said. The other fake Elmos, too, have images to protect. On Monday, one Elmo wandered by a Sephora store at 43rd Street and Seventh Avenue, a Christmas stocking dangling from his paw. A blue Cookie Monster waited outside the Hard Rock Café across the pedestrian plaza. "Take a picture?" he asked passing tourists, hopefully. The most lucrative corner for the Sesame Street impersonators appeared to be the one outside the Toys "R" Us megastore on 44th Street and Seventh Avenue, where children regularly emerged from the glass doors only to spot a life-sized toy right in front of them. Dragging their parents forward, they shouted, "Elmo! Elmo! Elmo, for his part, responded with a wave, a hug and a pose for the camera. Luis said he had not seen the offending Elmo for about two weeks, nor had he heard about his encounter with police officers. But he and another Elmo interviewed welcomed the news, saying it would improve the Sesame Street impersonator community's image. "It's good," said José, another Elmo working Times Square, from deep inside his red, furry suit.