Giving ’93 the Boot : New Year’s Eve Celebrations Get a Bit of Sole From a Jolly Old Tradition of Heaving Rubber Footwear

Some people couldn’t wait until the stroke of midnight to ring in the New Year.

They lined up Friday afternoon in Pasadena to throw out the old year.

More precisely, to boot it out.

“This is a Wellie-wanging,” explained London-born Edmund Fry. “You throw the boot and try to hit me.”

Fry, wearing a bowler hat and tails, sat in front of his California Boulevard tea and curio shop, eyeing a small pile of green rubber boots 30 feet away.

Wellingtons, he called them. The kind the royals wear in sloppy weather.

“Go ahead. Give it a try,” he said. “This is a tradition that goes back . . . to the Battle of Waterloo, when Wellington took off his boot and threw it at the French.”

Finally, a New Year’s tradition in Pasadena with sole.

Fry, 53, has celebrated the end of the last 15 years with Wellie-wangings. He portrays the “lord of the manor” who lets his servants, family members and friends heave rubber boots at him. Those who hit him win prizes.

“OK, I’ll do it. But I don’t want to hit you,” said a worried Le Lanza of San Gabriel.

“You’re supposed to hit me,” Fry said.

The footwear was flying fast and furiously across the sidewalk now. Tea shop customer Peggy Boultinghouse approached warily. “I’m going to sneak across before another one comes,” she said.

Wrong. A whizzing galosh hit her in the right side with a loud thud. “I got wangled, huh?” she said.

Kim Chinen of Pasadena ordered 7-year-old twins Megan and Erin to duck: “Watch it, girls; they’re throwing boots!”

Maria Romero, 16, of Pasadena gave it a try but missed Fry. “I’m not British,” she explained. “I’m Mexican.”

Not all Brits mark the end of the year with flying boots. At the John Bull English Pub nearby, pints of ale were being hoisted.

Geoff Ashcroft, 34, of San Gabriel said they call the tradition “Wellie-throwing” where he’s from--Watford, England. “They have contests and judge you on distance,” he said.

Back at the tea shop, Cindy Line of South Pasadena skidded a boot over the lawn, skimming Fry’s left leg. She had come for tea and scones to serve today to guests watching the Rose Bowl.

Husband Barry Line promised to sip tea at the kickoff. But he acknowledged that his tastes--like those at the John Bull Pub--might give way to ale as the game progressed.

That said, he picked up a boot and let fly, hitting Fry right below the belt.

“You’ve just won the grand prize,” Fry said with a sputter.

The year wasn’t quite over. But the year’s Wellie-wanging was.