Weather, Potential Partyers Give Festivities the Cold Shoulder

In the San Fernando Valley, the Big Night turned into the Big Flop.

On one of the quietest New Year’s Eves in memory, public revelry amounted to a few thousand people huddled in cold knots at parties at Van Nuys Airport and Universal CityWalk.

Even the criminals stayed home. Los Angeles police were maximally deployed, mustering three times the usual number of officers and detectives on patrol in the Valley. But the quiet night resulted in too few incidents and too many cops with too much time on their hands.

In one case, six patrol cars responded to a report of loud music in Panorama City. Faced with overwhelming force, the offenders quickly pumped down the jam.

“I think we’ve got them outnumbered,” Sgt. William McAllister said.

The city-sponsored party at Van Nuys Airport to welcome the new year may have won the prize as the dud of the New Year’s Eve celebrations in Los Angeles.

Organized by the Los Angeles Cultural Affairs Department, the admission-free event was supposed to attract a crowd of up to 75,000, but by the time singer B.J. Thomas took to the stage around 10:45 p.m., only about 500 people were present, according to police.

Even the 20,000 giveaway tickets handed out at supermarkets and libraries in the weeks before the event failed to boost attendance.

Party organizers blamed the poor showing on the on-and-off rain showers that swept through the San Fernando Valley on Friday.

“It’s just an act of God,” said party producer Marco Duval, as people shivered in small groups to watch entertainment at venues around the airport.

Showing optimism appropriate for the dawning of a new era--or perhaps the delusion of those caught in millennial madness--Duval refused to call the event a failure. “We are not disappointed,” he said.

Billed as the San Fernando Valley Spectacular, the show was headlined by Thomas--whose signature hit, “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head,” came in 1969--and also featured Jan-Michael Vincent, star of the 1984-86 TV series “Airwolf.” Cultural Affairs official Anisa Olazabal said the $300,000 event was hurt by its newness, not the talent.

“The first year at Times Square, I’m sure it wasn’t packed,” Olazabal said.

Adele Shambrum, 50, of Van Nuys, warmed herself over hot chocolate. “It was a valiant effort on the city’s part, a fabulous idea,” she said. “I’m just sorry the weather conditions have somewhat dampened things.”

Party officials closed down the main stage a few times when the rain fell especially hard. Smaller events were moved into airport hangars, but the transition didn’t always go well.

For a children’s Korean dance performance, event organizers could get only two lights to work. An airport worker tried to help, but when he flicked a switch during the performance, the two lights went out. They could not be turned on again.

LAPD officers came to the rescue, pulling out their flashlights and shining them on the children as the dance continued.

At Universal CityWalk, fewer people showed up than on a normal, non-millennium, non-Y2K, non-event night. Some blamed it on the lack of a rallying point here to compare with Times Square in New York City.

“We just don’t have a central place for everyone to gather,” said Arol Vilas of Studio City.

An estimated 6,000 die-hard fans attended a Jimmy Buffett concert at Universal Amphitheatre. One of them was Gretchen Klasing of Dallas, who traveled to L.A. with three friends specifically to celebrate the millennium in “Margaritaville.”

Like others at Universal, Klasing and her friends had anticipated that Y2K would be more like Yawn2K. Still, they didn’t want to miss out on the Next Big Thing, just in case it happened in L.A. on New Year’s Eve.

“I’d like to see something kind of freaky happen,” admitted Derek Rollins, also of Dallas. “It would be quite a story to say, ‘Yeah, I was in L.A. when the Hollywood sign fell down.’ ”

Rodney Thompson, 37, of Lake Forest in Orange County, showed more spunk than many of his generation, braving potential millennium destruction for the dance party at Universal City.

“We’ve been hearing about this [Y2K] for a year and a half,” said Thompson, 37. “It’s almost a letdown in effect. So many people were so concerned.”

As multiple digital clocks counted down to midnight, a confetti cannon filled the air at Universal Studios with a blizzard of multicolored strips of paper and Mylar.

Crowds filled the central courtyard at CityWalk as shirtless dancers reveled in the moment and a pyrotechnic display turned midnight into noon.

Shortly after, the crowds began to disperse. Many were eager to go home.

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Times staff writers David Colker, Scott Glover, Karima A. Haynes, Evelyn Larrubia, Patrick McGreevy, T. Christian Miller, Solomon Moore, Zanto Peabody, Kristina Sauerwein and Martha Willman contributed to this story.