Back in Formation

Doo Dah Parade watchers, rejoice: The leather is back.

After a six-year hiatus, the Synchronized Marching Briefcase Drill Team has been resurrected for the 24th annual display of irreverence, which will take place Sunday in Pasadena.

The valise-toting team of bankers, lawyers, management consultants and at-home moms was one of the parade’s most popular acts until unruly crowds drove it away six years ago.

Tom Coston, executive director of the Light Bringer Project, called the brigade the “heart of the Doo Dah” and hailed the team’s return as evidence of a return to Doo Dah’s traditional values--however oxymoronic that may sound.

“I think what [Doo Dah] is about is people being able to shed their roles . . . not taking ourselves too seriously,” he said.

Established in 1978 to spoof the Tournament of Roses parade, the Doo Dah urges the community to collective goofiness. Geriatric surfers, cross-dressing dogs and Martian nannies are just a few of the 100 groups scheduled to march this year.

The briefcase team became a part of the parade shortly after the event began. In 1979, team creator James Kemp, 56, then a trust officer for United California Bank, stopped for a beer at the John Bull English Pub in Pasadena on the way back from a presentation in Monrovia.

While he and several co-workers sipped ale, Kemp’s eye landed on wall posters for the Doo Dah Parade.

“There I am in a suit and it occurred to me there must be something we could do,” said Kemp. The Vietnam veteran combined his Army training and occupation to create the Briefcase Drill Team.

The team became known for marching in tight, orderly lines and snapping their briefcases into position on command, their faces straight ahead and expressionless--as a jab at corporate executives.

Its popularity resulted in a cameo role in the movie “Limit Up” and an appearance in the 1983 Jackson Browne music video “Lawyers in Love.” In 1997, Levi Strauss recruited Kemp to train a group of dancers for a blue jeans commercial in Chicago.

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” said Kemp, shrugging.

But out on the street, it was a different story. Parade watchers were a tough crowd, especially in 1992.

“People were shouting vulgarities at us,” said Kemp’s wife, Jeanie, adding that the crowd apparently misunderstood the troupe’s shtick. “They were saying, ‘When was the last time you helped a poor person?’ ”

That’s when the crowd hurled hard, stale tortillas at them. The faces of some marchers were scraped, said Jeanie Kemp. One group even lay in wait to attack Kemp with aerosol silly string. He trounced them with his briefcase and kept marching.

But the thrill was gone. And in 1993, so was the drill team, which went AWOL rather than face hostilities again.

However, last June, at Jeanie’s birthday party, a few bottles of wine elicited Doo Dah nostalgia from some of the partygoers. At their urging, Kemp and his wife decided to revive the briefcase drill team.

Parade officials were so excited that they named the drill team this year’s grand marshal.

What has kept this 20-year-old, oft-imitated act so funny?

“It’s only funny if the people doing it take it really seriously,” said Kemp, emphasizing the importance of remaining stone-faced in the face of hecklers and mistakes in the performance.

During a recent practice, he proved his point.

“We’re not snapping--it’s like Jell-O!” boomed Kemp, pacing in front of the group as it looked a bit ragged during one stunt. On a second try, 16 briefcases snapped sharply against 16 knees.

And only one voice yelled “Ouch.”