by KRISTIAN GRAVENOR

For 17 years, Louiselle St-Pierre has quarterbacked the association that leads Quebec's estimated 3,500 people of small stature.

"When I got here, the association was mostly just a social organization," she says. "We developed the side where we promote our issues, support those afflicted and defend rights. We work non-stop on it."

Next year is the 30th year in the little-people-assisting biz for the Association québécoise des personnes de petite taille, and the group has been planning events to celebrate the birthday for a couple of years. A new poster, Web site and other promotions are all in the works.

But St-Pierre has hit a problem that has proven unwinnable for so many organizations like hers: Quebec's contest bureaucracy.

Unlike other provinces, Quebec strictly regulates contests. Organizers are required to prove that they have deposited prizes in a frozen bank account, which the government can seize if anything looks fishy. St-Pierre says her group also has to pay the government three per cent of the value of all tickets printed, regardless of the number of tickets sold.

The expense and complexities have made not-open-to-residents-of-Quebec a familiar and disappointing disclaimer in the small print of contest literature.

The small folk want to sell 600 tickets, for $100 a pop. The winner has a choice between $20,000 cash or a Harley Davidson motorcycle in their August draw.

St-Pierre finds the rules, as enforced by Quebec's Régie des alcools, des courses et des jeux (RACJ) excessively costly.

"The whole point of holding a fundraiser is to make money because you don't have money," says St-Pierre. "So we want to hold this fundraising event, but it's difficult because it takes money to raise money."

Luckily, the group has managed to find a benefactor willing to lend the prize payoff, so they assumed it would be full-speed ahead for the contest.

That's when they discovered that yet another log had been tossed into their path by the provincial overlords.

They were told they needed a letter of guarantee from their banking institution. The letter would simply tell the province that the prize money was indeed safely in the account and would be frozen until the contest was done. Their local Caisse Populaire was only too happy to type it up, for a mere $690.

Account manager Jean-François Lizotte of the Montréal-Centre Caisse Desjardins says that the charge is standard for all financial institutions, which recently started charging a fee for the letter totalling up to five per cent of the jackpot. Lizotte says that not-for-profit organizations eventually get their money reimbursed after filling out a special application.

"The whole thing makes no sense. We don't have the required money to start off with," says St-Pierre.

For those hoping that the Liberals would clear away some of the bureaucratic hurdles that make it excessively difficult for Quebecers to participate in or organize contests, there's no sunshine behind those clouds. François Houle of the RACJ information office confirms there's no plan to change any rules.

St-Pierre vows that the contest will go on but still bemoans the cost of bureaucracy. "All this just to get a piece of paper. It really makes no sense."