‘I was the one who gave Madonna the idea of scanty outfits.’

Another Los Angeles landmark has disappeared from its familiar spot.

Eileen Anderson, who go-go-danced for rush-hour commuters on the corner of Main and Temple streets in downtown Los Angeles every evening for 15 years, says she’s retiring her leotard because the city won’t give her a parking place.

“I’m tired of parking my car blocks away and having a bunch of bums follow me like I’m the Pied Piper,” explained Anderson, who has run unsuccessfully for political office 16 times.

In the 1985 mayoral race, she placed third behind incumbent Tom Bradley and City Councilman John Ferraro in a field of nine candidates with 1,805 votes.

The London-born Anderson, who is of Irish heritage, will return to give commuters a special 5 p.m. show on St. Patrick’s Day and, then, that’s all folks.

She might reconsider, she added, if the city “put a shamrock on my corner or a statue of me or named a street after me. It’s the least they could do after all the years I’ve danced for world peace.”

Political insiders say that even the gift of a parking place for Anderson is doubtful, though there are some

precedents.The City of San Francisco once gave a beloved local character known as Emperor Norton a free season ticket to the Metropolitan Opera, among other privileges, in the 19th Century.

Anderson’s retirement would mark the end of a sideshow that grew out of an incident during her 1972 presidential campaign.

Protesting the law barring foreign-born Americans from running, she attempted to dance an Irish jig in front of Sen. Hubert Humphrey when he visited the Farmers’ Market.

A scuffle ensued with Humphrey’s alarmed body guards. Anderson was arrested and convicted in federal court of a misdemeanor charge of interfering with Secret Service agents.

So she began her daily bump-and-grind routine on a street corner near the U.S. Courthouse, clad in a bikini and garters. “I was the one who gave Madonna the idea of scanty outfits,” she declared.

Anderson, Miss Liverpool of 1954, switched to a more subdued leotard after feminist groups protested that she set a bad example.

Over the years, the flamboyant redhead danced through the rain and cold, smiled and waved to motorists and juggled and dribbled basketballs. “I never caused a traffic accident, either,” she said.

Known as the singing candidate, Anderson often warbled the planks of her platform on the corner, such as her idea of tunneling through the San Gabriel Mountains and setting up giant fans inside:

“Dig a hole in the mountains/Put a tunnel through/Put some wind behind it/And blow some fresh air through/Blow away the smoggy-og-og/Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Anderson stopped dancing a few months ago after the city began a crackdown on curb-side parking during rush hour in the Civic Center. Until then, she had parked illegally near her curb-side stage and had never received a ticket, she said.

“Why can’t I have the mayor’s parking place at night?” she asked. “He doesn’t need it.”