Postcard Day Crowns Rose Parade, Game

The usual array of absurdities were on display Monday at the Tournament of Roses parade--giant clowns, turkeys and a two-story Tom Sawyer rafting down Colorado Boulevard.

But the greatest spectacle may have been on the sidelines: people stripping off Windbreakers and sweaters and more. At a time when much of America is snow-locked and frozen, the likes of John Jalaba were working on their suntans.

The 40-year-old Pasadena resident surveyed the panorama from atop a motor home--shirtless, wearing shorts, reclining in a beach chair. “Roughing it,” he joked, snacking on chips and dip.

It was another eat-your-heart-out-New-York New Year’s Day, a refreshing departure from last year, when parade day came up so cold you could see your breath.

This time, massive floral butterflies drifted down the parade route on a spring-like day with temperatures in the mid-70s. Precision parachutists spiraled down out of sun-washed blue skies.

There were no major breakdowns of the 52 floats, led by Grand Marshal Tom Brokaw. It even started and ended on time, causing some to think that finally--after 111 previous tries--the 112th Rose Parade got it just about right.

“This is the smoothest I’ve seen,” said a man who would know, tow-truck driver Brian Armagost. He stood by in one of the 47 tow trucks, awaiting the almost inevitable moment when one of the hulking floats would groan to a stop and have to be dragged to the end of the route.

Toward the end of the parade route, spectators cheered one breakdown, shouting “Yea Triple A!” as an Automobile Club tow truck hauled a float down the boulevard on an otherwise all but mechanically perfect day.

There were other nit-picky problems: most notably, terrible traffic and not enough portable toilets. Lines at the temporary toilets on Union Street were 10 people deep by 5 a.m.; a few hours later, the toilets were unapproachable.

Not even that, however, could sour the sanguine mood on what some regarded as the true first day of the new millennium.

Holding Annual Family Reunion

Many found it an appropriate occasion to reaffirm their ties to the Rose Parade’s quirky tradition of flowered theme vehicles, some more than 100 feet long, covered every inch in organic matter ranging from eucalyptus leaves to poppy seeds.

The almost inexplicable ritual has been a focal point of one family--the Martins--for 53 years. Ten of them watched this year from their usual vantage point, a flatbed truck parked near the end of the route. They joined several hundred thousand spectators, although no one knows exactly how many people attend the free event each year.

White-haired Les Martin, who made the trip south, as he always does, from the Northern California town of Cool, said his father started taking him to the Rose Parade in the years after World War II.

Now, he attends with his own grown sons. The event has become an annual Martin family reunion, marked by laughter and high jinks. In years past, the children--or more juvenile adults--liked to dart out and snatch flowers off the floats, he said. They often exchange cheers with spectators across the street.

“We get a little boisterous,” Martin said. “It’s just a family thing we do.”

This time, though, it was too nice, too mild, too perfect to be rowdy. Not even the Edison International float--white egrets in a “Saving the Wetlands” theme--could move the crowd to hostility.

“It’s just not that type of day,” said Steven Moore of San Diego, who found such serenity despite electricity and gas bills that have soared to $200 a month--double what he used to pay. A mitigating influence, he said, might have been the unlikely presence of his alma mater, Purdue University, in the Rose Bowl football game, a freak event on the order of an alien abduction.

“[It] happens only twice in a lifetime, so it was worth coming up” for the parade and game, Moore said, dressed in his Purdue garb.

Purdue backers were the earliest-arriving and loudest spectators. John and Faye Bevelhimer, who met on a blind date as Purdue undergraduates, last attended the parade and Rose Bowl game in 1967, when they were newlyweds. Coming back, said Faye, “is a huge thing for us. It’s interesting to see how the parade has changed. It’s just as big as before, only better organized.”

Enduring Overnight Chill

For the thousands who claimed prime curbside seats by camping out, the overnight chill was a hardship. Temperatures plunged into the 40s. On and around the floats, cheerleaders and baton twirlers huddled in a desperate effort to stay warm.

Matthew Gunawan’s teeth chattered as he perched on the Panda Express float before dawn. The 13-year-old won a spot on the float by winning an essay contest on the values of diversity. A Chinese American, he ended up dressing as a Moroccan.

“I guess that’s America,” he said.

With sunrise came rapid relief from the cold, drawing out untold numbers of people like Kent and Marnie Snyder, who otherwise might have skipped the parade.

“Every year, she and I go out on New Year’s Eve and sometimes it’s tough to get out of bed the next morning,” said Kent. “But the weather was so nice we just had to come.”

Cindy and Bob Apps of Santa Clarita moved west from Chicago just four months ago and relished the chance to call friends back home and gloat.

“We could be inside . . . dreaming of the warm weather,” Cindy said, sipping coffee on the curb. Seeing the parade in person was a longtime goal of theirs, she added. “It was the first thing on our list when we got here.”

Everything was as she expected, except for the late-night revelry. At midnight, campers throw tortillas and marshmallows that end up littering the route. Police arrested 78 people overnight, mostly for drinking in public and disturbing the peace. For better or worse, it is part of a party atmosphere that some milk for all it’s worth.

Mark Braithwaite, 20, was one of the more vigorous partyers, along with seven friends. In their first overnight experience on the street, they were bundled in sleeping bags, eating doughnut holes. They had brought along a giant cooler of food and soft drinks, a guitar, hockey sticks, a Hula Hoop, and, hidden somewhere, a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

One friend was still under his blue bag even as the marching bands moved up the boulevard.

“He passed out,” Braithwaite said. But it was OK--they were all having fun. “It’s a good time. Everyone in Southern California should do it at least once,” Braithwaite said of attending the parade. “It’s like going to Disneyland.”

The Rose queen and her court had their own fans. Two Carmelite nuns, Sister Mary Ignatius and Sister Pauline Therese, were among the admirers who watched them emerge from the Tournament House at 6:30 a.m.

“They are beautiful,” Sister Pauline said.

Staking Out Secret Sites

Many wily locals, including JoAnn Camperi, avoided the traffic and pedestrian crowds by staking out secret “parade routes” on New Year’s Eve. They got sneak peaks at the floats as they were moved from three different decorating areas in the county to the staging area on Pasadena’s Orange Grove Avenue.

“We get to see them before anybody else does,” said Camperi, who found a location at Saint Albans Road and Huntington Drive in San Marino, well off the official parade route.

Victor and Elizabeth Morales camp out on lawn chairs at the corner of Columbia Street and Orange Grove. Victor figures that 70% of the floats come through that intersection. The couple likes to share Chinese takeout and white zinfandel, bracing for the night chill with long underwear, gloves and sock liners.

“Are you going to put this in the paper?” Victor asked with a groan. “Ohhh. Now the whole world is going to know.”

Spectators and participants alike voiced a deep emotional attachment to the parade and the joy it represents.

Dee Carlson, the Old Woman in the Shoe on a soaring float commissioned by Dr Pepper, admitted to a touch of “postpartum” depression as the parade ended in the usual fragrant bed of horse manure and fallen flowers.

“I’ve literally been with that float for the past couple of days,” Carlson said hoarsely. “I got maybe four and a half hours of sleep in that time. It’s like my baby.”

Climbing down, wearing a pink, full-length wool dress, she was sweating profusely.

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Times staff writers David Ferrell, Elise Gee, Oscar Johnson and Jason Song contributed to this story.