By Raymond McCaffrey
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, January 21, 2001 ; Page A26
The parade began as it has for decades now, with principal drum major Jim McGarity facing the newly sworn president at the Capitol building, then turning to lower his mace in a signal to the United States Army Band.
As the band struck up the "National Emblem March," McGarity took his first precise 27-inch stride, setting in motion a procession of about 10,900 people representing 44 states and the District of Columbia.
The participants -- from McGarity, a sergeant major who had marched in inaugural parades dating to the Nixon years, to those who rode on the 11 floats or played in the 45 marching bands -- and the tens of thousands who came to watch were a part of what President Bush described as "the American story" in his inaugural address, "a story of flawed and fallible people, united across the generations by grand and enduring ideals."
Some came by plane; others traveled cross-country by car or by bus. Together, they endured the cold and the rain for a reason.
"To be able to tell my children when they're in history class that I marched in the parade," said Breann Gillum, a 17-year-old drum major with the Pearl High School Pirate Band of Pearl, Miss., who wore surgical gloves beneath the white ones that were part of her uniform.
The procession began about 2:40 p.m., led by McGarity and the presidential escort, and headed down Pennsylvania Avenue in five divisions, each led by a band representing one of the four branches of the Armed Services, plus the Coast Guard and merchant marines.
In the first division, which started marching about 3:30 p.m., there was the eagle float from Texas, which carried celebrities Wayne Newton, Bo Derek and Nell Carter, who shivered in the rain with everyone else.
There were the Kilgore Rangerettes, the junior college drill team that had performed at the Texas State Society's inaugural ball the previous evening, an event that drew a crowd equal to the population of 10,000 in the Texas college town they call home. Yesterday, they awoke early to march through the chilly streets.
"We're known for our high kicks," said Andi Davison, 20. "Some girls will kick and actually get lipstick on their legs."
Janie Flowers, from Tallahassee, said: "We were thinking about leaving just as Bush passed, [but] what the heck. It's worth it. What's a little rain and cold?"
The rain dripped down the bill of McGarity's bearskin hat as he and the presidential motorcade crossed Sixth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, passing 2-year-old Nikolai Kouznetsov, who had been bundled asleep in his parent's arms.
"Wave to President Bush," his mother, Victoria Bingham, told him. "You see? You woke up just in time."
At 3:15 p.m., as Bush's limousine moved past Seventh and Pennsylvania, the greeting was not as friendly. Some in the crowd booed and chanted, "Hail to the Thief," "Selected not elected" and "Down with the king."
A few blocks later, at 11th and Pennsylvania, a group of conservative high school students from Texas and a group of liberal students from New York stood clustered together. They had found themselves staying on the same floor of the Holiday Inn at Dulles and sharing the same tour bus this weekend. The Texans spent Saturday maneuvering to the front of the crowds at the parade, the better to see their state's favorite son pass by.
"This is the true nature of American politics," said Brian Adessa, a history teacher from the New York school, "when you can disagree and yet still bond together."
At 3:25 p.m., soon after McGarity passed 15th and Pennsylvania, there was a commotion behind him. Bush had stepped out of his limousine and waved with both hands to the crowd, left and then right, before walking alongside of the limousine.
"Alright, W!" yelled Polly Ann Winchell, of Long Beach, Calif.
"Oh, this is unreal," she said. "Look at him -- he's just walking down the street."
Preston Bridgewater, who flew in from Houston and had once been taught in Sunday school by the president's father in Midland, Tex., called out to him.
The president looked over and nodded. Bush finally got back into the limousine and proceeded to the White House, where McGarity would raise his lance for the last time at an inaugural parade, signally his band to stop playing.
But the marchers behind him continued on, division by division.
In Division Two, there was URBAN-15 Carnaval de San Antonio, a Latin dance troupe, with members ages 12 to 76.
"It's exciting even if we didn't vote for that guy and we're concerned about uncounted ballots," said Catherine Cisneros, 47, the group's artistic director. "We're proud to represent our country and our culture."
There was Division Three, with the Empire Statesmen, a Rochester, N.Y., band that included 54-year-old Josh Porte, a former Marine and the director of radiology at a hospital, who marched the entire parade route dressed as Uncle Sam.
"It's the most important day of my life," he said.
There was Division Four, with the Slinger High School Band from Slinger, Wis., which took a train to Washington. Jamie Rutley, a 16-year-old tenor sax player, spent most of the trip beset by motion sickness, but she had no complaints, even when she wasn't allowed through the metal detector with her lucky charm: a locket containing photos of her late father and late uncle.
"I know they're both with me," she said.
Finally, there was Division Five, including the last band, from Prairie View A&M University. The members of the flag line were the last marchers in the parade. One of them, Treemonisha Smith, an 18-year-old from Houston, was unaware of her place in the parade but very aware of the importance of the day.
"It's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity," she said.
