Bush & Co. Open Inaugural Party, Try to Break the Ice

It was a good old-fashioned show on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. The program was neatly choreographed; the crowd was decent; the fireworks familiarly lit the low-slung Washington skyline; and Ricky Martin added a tinge of Latin risk to a relatively staid afternoon.

But maybe because there were so many distractions, so much competing for the nation’s attention, Thursday’s kickoff of America’s quadrennial political pageant felt more functional than festive.

It just didn’t sizzle.

A dreary dampness and stubborn chill called for an armchair by the fire, not a folding one on marble. Six confirmation hearings consumed official Washington, a pileup of transition business that might have been out of the way if not for a protracted election. The largest state in the country was enduring rolling energy blackouts. And Bill Clinton was giving a prime-time farewell on George Walker Bush’s first big night out on the town.

What was an almost-president to do?

Bush, in a dark overcoat and leather gloves, seemed relaxed as he and his wife, Laura, and Vice President-elect Dick Cheney and his wife, Lynne, made their triumphal entry from behind the pillars in front of Lincoln’s statue.

Bush smiled impishly, saluted the crowd and moved aside for a variety show that gave new meaning to the word retro. Two-fifths of the Fifth Dimension and Kim Weston, an oldie but goody, shared the stage with the Rockettes and Wayne Newton--who seemed all the more Vegas in such a magisterial setting. Later, leaning back in his chair, Bush looked bemused as Ricky Martin gyrated. At the very end of the program--just before the fireworks--Bush cut loose just the littlest bit, swiveling his 54-year-old hips as Martin escorted him to center stage.

In brief remarks, Bush joked about why thousands of people might have braved inauspicious weather and security searches.

“There’s a lot of excitement in the air,” Bush said after thanking Cheney for introducing him. “I’m not sure if people came to see you [Cheney] or Ricky Martin.”

In fact, as one section of impatient high school students watched Bush’s campaign video, they chanted: “Who cares? Where’s Ricky?”

Still, there were adolescent devotees even in the cheap (free) and distant (they couldn’t even see the stage except on giant TV screens) seats. “I’m here for Bush,” said Paul Maynard, 16, who came all the way from Rhode Island to celebrate the ascension of his political idol. “I like what he has to say. He has good ideas.”

But Washington is a company town, and inaugurals are like local strawberry festivals. The kids get the day off, and a lot of locals show up. In the VIP section, Wylie Galvin, 14, of Washington, explained his presence:

“My dad worked for Big Bush,” he said.

“Well, my dad works with Little Bush,” said his pal, 15-year-old Jonathan Frist, son of GOP Sen. Bill Frist of Tennessee.

Unlike past presidents, Bush didn’t use the occasion to summon up every American icon in Bartlett’s. He thanked the crowd, promised to “treat the office with care” and sat down.

Leigh Ann Lock, 30, and her sister Sandra Foster, 42, were a little disappointed that there wasn’t more rocking in the ticketed seating section.

“These people would never make it at the Houston Rodeo,” said Foster as she and her sister stood up to sing along with the Fifth Dimension. Everybody else remained seated.

But Louise Banby, a volunteer from Seattle wearing an ankle-length mink and ushering VIPs, insisted that Republicans have soul. “We rock,” she said, “under our fur coats.”

Predictions of multiple protests didn’t pan out. One woman in an electric orange board that said “Abolish the Electoral College” was overshadowed by a sea of “I Love Ricky” signs.

Esther Branch, a devoted Bush supporter from Houston and one of the few African Americans at the opening ceremonies, fretted over the crowd’s lack of diversity.

“I’m just really surprised there aren’t a lot of minorities here,” she said, adding that she hoped African Americans would become more familiar with the soon-to-be president and see “that Bush is a good guy.”

Bush started his day at a closed meeting of the Republican National Committee. He reveled a little in victory, charming his early and reverent supporters with jokes about individuals who had helped him along. He also revealed a sense of vulnerability: “Some places I didn’t capture the vote,” he said. “That’s OK. It’s the beginning of an effort to reach out.”

By Thursday evening, he was dressed up and toasting the swells: supporters who had paid $2,500 each--on top of tens of thousands of dollars in campaign, recount and inaugural donations--to attend one of three candlelight dinners.

Times staff writer Kathleen Howe contributed to this story.