By Karlyn Barker and Serge F. Kovaleski
Washington Post Staff Writers
Sunday, January 21, 2001 ; Page A01
The nation's 54th presidential inauguration was a boisterous epilogue to a bitterly fought election, as hundreds of thousands of people cheering George W. Bush shared the soggy streets of downtown Washington yesterday with several thousand others who came to denounce his ascension to power.
Police and protesters skirmished in the chilly rain. Women in fur coats and men in top hats stood near activists clad in Gore-Tex and hoisting acerbic placards. The new president was both applauded and booed as his motorcade traveled up Pennsylvania Avenue. Then he was greeted by shouts of support when he and his wife, Laura, walked the last few blocks of the inaugural parade.
Despite the raw, damp weather, the stifling presence of police officers and the occasional shouting match between Americans on opposite sides of the political spectrum, the show proceeded in all its traditional grandeur.
A crowd of more than 300,000 people filled the Capitol grounds and spilled onto the Mall almost to Seventh Street NW to see Bush take the oath of office at noon. About three hours later, the Old Guard Fife and Drum Corps led a parade of 10,900 marchers that ended at 5:34 p.m. when the Pro-Form Airborne Jump Rope Team from Rexburg, Idaho, reached the White House reviewing stand.
David Ryerse and his wife, Marilyn, spent the whole day outdoors, coping with the drizzle, the cold, the security checkpoints and a pair of parade bleacher seats that were surrounded by demonstrators. It was all worth it, the Ryerses said.
"We're just glad that George W. Bush is our president now," said Ryerse, a high school teacher at a Christian school in Newport News, Va. "Now we can respect the man who is filling the office."
For many spectators, the biggest frustration was not the array of protesters or the dreary weather, but the paralyzing effects of the unusually tight security.
Hundreds of ticket holders arrived late for the swearing-in ceremony or missed it entirely because of delays at security checkpoints surrounding the Capitol. Lt. Dan Nichols, spokesman for the U.S. Capitol Police, said that many of the invitees left home late because of the rain and that when they did arrive, the crowds overwhelmed the checkpoints. He declined to estimate how many people were affected by the delays.
Lines also were long at the 10 security checkpoints police set up around the parade route. One of the biggest bottlenecks was at Third and C Streets NW, where a gantlet of officers examined the bags and packs of every visitor approaching the Mall and Pennsylvania Avenue. At one point, the line of people stretched more than a block, and it took 23 minutes to get through.
Still, Jane Fish Yowaiski made it to her usual corner, Pennsylvania Avenue and Sixth Street NW, to watch the parade. The 80-year-old Leonardtown resident started the day at church, then drove to the District, where she has seen every inauguration since the days of Franklin D. Roosevelt.
"I'm here for the parade. It's our parade; it belongs to everyone," said Yowaiski, whose head was covered with a scarf, a black hat and plastic to keep her dry. Asked whether she had voted for Bush, she looked horrified and yelled, "No. I've never voted for a Republican in my life." Still, she added, "he's my president now. I can't help it."
Bush's official day began at 9:20 a.m. when he arrived at St. John's Church on Lafayette Square for a private 40-minute worship service for the families of Bush, Vice President-elect Cheney and their friends. Laura Bush stood out in a bright blue suit amid a blur of black topcoats as the entourage of about 100 entered the front doors of the historic Episcopal church.
The Rev. Mark Craig, pastor of Highland Park United Methodist Church in Dallas, where the Bushes are members, preached on the gifts of knowledge and order that come with trusting the Lord, parish secretary Graham Beard said as he left the service.
Then Bush was driven the block to the White House, where he joined President Clinton for the ride to the Capitol. After the swearing-in ceremony, the new president enjoyed an elegant lunch for a select 240 guests in the Capitol's Statuary Hall before leading off the parade. Later, he dropped by 10 inaugural balls across the city.
The closest thing to a disruption of Bush's day occurred during the parade when his limousine stopped for five minutes between 12th and 13th streets -- one of the areas thickest with protesters -- to give a security escort time to move closer.
The vast majority of protesters were peaceful, and police reported only a handful of arrests.
An anarchist group identified by police as "the Black Bloc" slashed tires and threw paint balls near Thomas Circle shortly after 11 a.m., according to Lt. William Farr, of the D.C. police.
Police detained a group of about 70 protesters near 14th and K streets NW. When a separate group of more than 1,000 anti-Bush marchers headed toward the intersection, police set up a line blocking 14th Street just north of K Street.
"We had to filter out the bad guys from the good guys," Farr said. After a tense standoff with police that lasted 45 minutes, the protesters dispersed.
Thousands of protesters converged on Freedom Plaza, at 13th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, to demonstrate against the Bush presidency and his position on a variety of issues.
In a constant cacophony that boomed through downtown's concrete canyons, some used bullhorns to denounce Bush while others beat plastic buckets with drumsticks to give the gathering a kind of energy and momentum.
The demonstrators' concerns were myriad, but a common theme was the belief that Bush was unfairly given the presidency in a recount process that was rigged.
"Bush was selected by big corporations and special interests and not elected by the people. And as a working-class person, I feel we have to vigorously fight against this man," said Oscar Ovalles, 40, a truck driver from Queens, N.Y.
The protesters' presence annoyed many in the shivering crowd.
Jim Flournoy aimed his video camera at the oncoming parade, hoping to capture the sights and sounds for his family back in Rome, Ga. Through his viewfinder, he saw what he needed to see, but all he could hear were the shouts of a group of protesters directly behind him at 15th and Pennsylvania.
"Excuse me," Flournoy said. "I don't mind the yelling, just please stop with the profanity."
They continued shouting as before, and Flournoy continued to tape.
A few minutes later, Flournoy turned to the person next to him and shook his head. "I've never seen anything like this," he said. "I didn't even vote for Bush."
At Third and C streets, the number of protest signs seemed to exceed the number of umbrellas. "Oh God, it's terrible," said Tina Baker, 28, an accountant from Arlington who had come to watch the parade. "I hadn't come for this," she said, as the cold rain fell and the people around her began to chant, "Selected, not elected," and other anti-Bush slogans.
As she made her way through a checkpoint, she said, "I'm not really in the mood to celebrate after all of this."
But others were unfazed by the demonstrations. A marching band from Crawford, Tex., performed in a corner of Freedom Plaza before the parade, just a few feet from shouting anti-Bush activists.
"I wish there were more Bush supporters than protesters. But the protesters are part of the experience, too, and so I'm glad to experience the protest," said band member Nathan V. Hejl, 14.
At the end of his long trek in the parade, University of Texas marching band saxophonist Nathan Howell said that the smattering of demonstrators he had seen along Pennsylvania Avenue "were nothing" compared with what he faces on a regular basis at visiting football stadiums.
"That's usually a lot worse. At Texas Tech, they throw tortillas at us," he said.
The spectacle of a new U.S. president assuming power and addressing the public out in the open took on a special meaning for Japanese students Takuro Sugihara, 21, and Takayuki Uno, 24. In Japan, they said, citizens don't even get a direct voice in the election of their head of government. Both students are working this year at the Alexandria-based International Internship Programs.
"We don't have public events like this," Sugihara said. "Here we can feel very close to your president."
Carol and Tom Halvorson, of Alexandria, both Bush fans, brought their sons, Ryan, 6, and Matthew, 4, to the Mall to experience a bit of history. Despite the foul weather, they packed for a picnic: blue tarp on the ground, sandwiches and hot chocolate for the adults; Oreos, orange juice and gummy bears for the kids.
The boys had watched Thursday's opening inaugural ceremony at the Lincoln Memorial on television. Asked who was the better dancer, Latin heartthrob Ricky Martin or the new president, both exclaimed, "George Bush!"
The political passions on both sides boosted Metrorail ridership, which was about 18 percent higher than it was during Inauguration Day four years ago, according to Metro officials. By 6 p.m., 463,817 people had boarded Metro trains, compared with 392,780 for that same period on Jan. 20, 1997.
The busiest day in Metro's 25-year history was the 1993 inauguration of Bill Clinton, when passengers took more than 811,000 trips by day's end.
Crowding was most intense at the Federal Triangle station on the Orange and Blue lines, the closest open station to the parade route. Cars were stuffed with revelers and protesters, women in furs and college students in combat boots. Lines backed up at the turnstiles as out-of-towners fumbled with Farecards and Metro workers tried to coax them to keep moving.
After the swearing-in ceremony, as cold and hungry passengers reboarded the trains to go home or see the parade, two young out-of-towners riding the Orange Line got snacks out of their bags and began eating.
A hometown rider warned them that eating on Metro is illegal and that they could get arrested.
"Arrested?" piped up a male passenger. "You can have affairs in the White House, but you can't eat on the subway? What a great system."
Traffic was jammed near Pennsylvania Avenue late into the evening, while crews worked to clean up along the parade route.
Paul Luering, a warehouse supervisor from Chicago Heights, Ill., who was in line at a checkpoint on Seventh Street, said he had come to help chaperon the Marian Catholic High School band that was marching in the parade.
Bush was not his choice, said Luering, who was carrying a video camera, but that didn't give him any bad feelings about the day.
"We're one country," he said. "We have to get together now. Once the election is over with, we have to unite."
