BY ANA ACLE

 The cream of Cuban Miami crowded into the Gonzalez family dining room --
 priests, politicians, a famous actor, exile leaders -- all squeezed between two
 old leather barber chairs, a sagging love seat, a shrine of Elian news clippings,
 and a menagerie of new stuffed-toy animals, as an image of Elian flickered on
 a large-screen television.

 Elian stood among the adults, watching himself on TV and smiling proudly. He
 stood barefoot, looking like Tom Sawyer, his too-long blue jeans hanging over
 small feet whose bottoms were blackened by the sand below the swing set in
 the backyard.

 They had tuned in a rebroadcast of a wobbly home video supplied to Univision
 on Thursday in which Elian, sitting in bed, wearing a gold chain, sent a finger-
 pointing message to his father: ``Papa, did you see that old woman who went to
 the home of that little nun? She wants to take me to Cuba. I tell him -- I tell you
 all -- I don't want to go to Cuba. . . .''

 The living room erupted in defiant acclaim.

 The Gonzalez home hardly looked like the Alamo it had become -- a small, poor
 immigrant family hunkered down in defiance of the United States government. It
 was a kind of merry carnival, where almost everyone who is anyone in Cuban
 Miami was present and accounted for.

 Family members shed anxious tears all morning, but after Attorney General Janet
 Reno announced on TV at noon that federal marshals would not storm the house,
 tensions evaporated; the TV channel changed to a daytime soap; hot,
 home-cooked chicken and rice came out of the kitchen; and hand-wringing
 switched to high-fiving.

 Then, when a federal appeals court issued a temporary order barring Elian from
 leaving the United States, the Gonzalez house exploded in happy pandemonium.
 The Rev. Manuel Salabarria high-fived Elian's great-uncle Lazaro and cried, ``I love
 you!''

 Who was there? Who in Cuban Miami wasn't there to pay homage, to show
 solidarity, to bear-hug and God-bless in the little dining room with a family that
 had never registered so much as a blip on their radar screens until four
 tumultuous months ago?

 VISITING STAR

 Gloria Estefan's afternoon appearance seemed to momentarily eclipse even the
 crisis itself. People packed the dining room for a glimpse of her, and Miami-Dade
 Mayor Alex Penelas and Miami Mayor Joe Carollo huddled intently with her,
 coaching her on what to say outside.

 Estefan told the mayors, ``I just want to know why the government is not
 compelling the father to come and meet his son.''

 Leave the legal stuff to the lawyers, they urged her. Just talk from your heart like
 you're doing here. She nodded in agreement. Fifty people accompanied her as
 she went to face the press.

 Actor and native son Andy Garcia had arrived earlier with his wife, Marivi. After
 speaking to the press, he came in to the house and sat quietly, self-consciously,
 in the dining room. He had only one request: The movie star wanted his picture
 taken with Elian.

 CELEBRITY SUMMONS

 Elian, summoned from the yard, made his entrance like a kamikaze pilot. He
 stood respectfully as he was introduced to the Garcias. Then, as he posed for the
 photo, Marisleysis teased the fidgeting boy, ``Smile, don't look like a dummy.''

 Most of the day, Elian darted between the yard and Marisleysis' lap. The two wore
 red T-shirts and blue jeans. She occupied the love seat, looking pale, but in good
 spirits after her release Wednesday from Mercy Hospital, where she was treated
 for nervous exhaustion. She kept an arm around the boy's shoulders. He pestered
 her relentlessly, playfully poking her ear with his finger.

 The dining room was too small for everyone. The table bore orchids sent to
 Marisleysis in the hospital and a statue of the Christ Child in a red velvet shawl. In
 one corner of the room was a beauty parlor, with two leather barber chairs, a large
 hair dryer, and a cupboard of potions and lotions. Next to it was an Elian shrine --
 heaps of photos and news clippings, some framed, some just cut out -- and a
 stuffed toy dolphin and a crucifix. Beside the shrine were piles of new teddy bears
 and Winnie the Poohs, and a Batman poster.

 Most of the VIP visitors drifted to the backyard patio: Penelas; Carollo; Hialeah
 Mayor Raul Martinez; Telemundo talk-show queen Cristina Saralegui; Cuban
 American National Foundation members Ninoska Perez-Castellon, Pepe
 Hernandez and Mario Miranda; Brothers to the Rescue leader Jose Balsulto;
 Elian's fisherman-rescuer Donato Dalrymple; family pastor Father Francisco
 Santana. Most of them talked into cell phones.

 RENO'S WORDS

 They rushed inside every time something big happened on TV. When Reno gave
 her noon press conference, they listened nervously, silently. Lazaro occasionally
 lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, perhaps not fully understanding
 what she was saying in English. Marisleysis, more defiant, gave a small Bronx
 cheer when Reno referred to her by name.

 Only one Gonzalez was conspicuous by her absence: Angela, Lazaro's wife, the
 rock of the Gonzalez family.

 Rocks of the family do not speak. They simply do what has to be done. As the
 cream of Cuban Miami partied in the dining room, she kept the hot coffee and
 chicken and rice coming, rarely leaving the only quiet sanctuary in the Gonzalez
 house that day -- her kitchen.

                     Copyright 2000 Miami Herald