NEW PRESIDENT CHARMS THRONGS ALONG AMERICA'S MAIN STREET

Ernestine Buck brought some sly strategy along yesterday morning when she boarded a bus downtown with her five grandchildren, bound for their first inaugural parade. She didn't tell the toddling troop where they were headed.

"I decided I'm just going to save that for last," Buck whispered with a quick smile. "I told them this is George Bush's big day, but if they knew there was about to be a big parade, too, they'd get so hyped up, it would be unbelievable."

Good prediction. Buck's gang and about 300,000 other wind-blown parade watchers -- perched in trees, standing on vending carts, even atop portable toilets -- burst into a patriotic frenzy as the inaugural parade zipped like a party streamer along Pennsylvania Avenue.

The thick crowds -- 25 rows deep at some corners -- thundered with even more enthusiasm as people suddenly discovered that their new president was passing by on foot. "He's walking! He's on the street!" yelled a teen-ager standing atop a newspaper box at 12th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue NW. "Bush is on the street!"

From a block away, people charged toward the avenue, some with cameras swinging wildly around their necks as they ran. Hundreds of others dashed down back streets near the parade route, hoping to catch another glimpse of the new president.

"This is the way we know George Bush, accessible to the people," said Peter Slot, who was sporting a cowboy hat and blue suit. "I think this is a symbol of a more open relationship between the people and the government."

The parade started a bit late and proceeded peacefully, although police reported a few arrests on minor charges, and two vending trucks near the parade route at 15th Street caught fire.

The 214 units -- from D.C. Police Chief Maurice T. Turner in front to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir at the end -- did not disappoint the masses who bundled shoulder-to-shoulder on the curb and spent hours craning to see the celebration of peaceful transition.

"We're getting smushed and pushed for Bush," one man yelled. Seconds later, he vanished into the crowd.

Near Freedom Plaza at 14th and Pennsylvania, where officials unfurled an American flag the size of a basketball court, two teen-agers drummed out a feverish go-go music beat on water buckets and traffic cones as women in mink coats strolled into the lavish Willard Hotel. At 17th Street, Jesse Jackson and his wife Jacqueline jumped briefly from the sidewalk straight into the parade, startling security agents and sparking whoops of delight.

"I'm caught up in the spirit," said Katy Mack, 18, of Germantown, who sat with her mother in front of the Treasury Building. "I'm just happy to be an American."

Some spectators selected their spots not long past sunrise, keeping abreast of inaugural activities via radio, portable televison sets and binoculars. Others scrambled for high ground just minutes before the parade stepped off.

Everywhere, people climbed for better views. On 12th Street, a dozen children sat atop four "Don's Johns" portable toilets. Outside the U.S. District Court, parade-goers stood like statues atop rows of three-foot-high granite blocks that line the sidewalk. Near the National Gallery, people sat in nearly every tree while waiting for the action.

"I'm short, and this tree's the tallest," said 9-year-old Kevin Williams, perched high in a tree 50 yards from Pennsylvania Avenue. To his mother's chagrin, Kevin abruptly announced he had to go to the bathroom.

"You have to go now?" Diane Hunter shouted in disbelief.

"Yeah, and I need you to come up here and hold my spot," Kevin replied.

"If you think I'm coming up there, you're crazy," Hunter said.

"But Mom, I gotta go," Kevin whined.

"Well, then," Mom answered, "you lose your spot." He did.

The parade, the climax of three days of celebration, had clearly sapped the energy of some. A well-dressed woman clutched her high-heeled shoes as she scampered -- with scratched bare feet -- along the parade route toward the Capitol.

"This is what you get for running for Congress," said the woman, Lou Maeurer of Bellingham, Wash. Maeurer, a radio reporter who plans to run for the House of Representatives in 1990, said she came to the inauguration both to report on the event and to prepare her campaign.

But running to receptions, lunches and other affairs was wearing her out -- and wearing out her shoes. Maeurer tried to catch her breath. No such luck. More hassle followed as she waited to proceed through a metal detector to the swearing-in ceremonies.

"Hey, that's my dress for the gala," she said to a security agent pawing through the pockets of her flight bag. "My hotel is way out in Silver Spring, I've got to carry my evening clothes."

James and Gloria Brubaker also pleaded weariness. The couple, residents of San Diego, stood in strong winds displaying a hand-lettered sign advertising $360 tickets to an inaugural ball. Seems a reception for Vice President Quayle had left them tired and frustrated.

"I am so mad," Gloria Brubaker said. "We stood there and stood there and he didn't even shake anybody's hand."

Deep into the hours-long procession of floats and bands, a replica of Bush's World War II TB Avenger aircraft wedged its way through some narrow turns, barely squeezing past the White House reviewing stand. The competition for crowd favorite was close between the airplane and the District's Eastern High School Band.

Hundreds searched Pennsylvania Avenue for stars; a few hit celebrity gold.

"I saw Donald and Ivana Trump! Trust me, I'm from New York, I know about these things," said a breathless Alicia Freeman. "He had on that cashmere coat of his. Her hair was up. Her hair is the color of mine, only lighter." Others spotted Bob Hope, former Dallas Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach and ardent Bush supporter Arnold Schwarzenegger.

At Lafayette Park, occasionally confrontational incidents occurred throughout the day. Crowds of Bush supporters, many wearing business suits and fur coats, slid uneasily past the usual band of protestors camped across the street from the White House.

One protestor launched a profane tirade at a passer-by about "rich pigs" before being pulled away by friends. Another sidewalk entrepreneur walked about yelling, "Get your anti-Bush buttons! Get your anti-Bush buttons!"

All along the parade route, scattered groups of protestors waved poster pleas for various causes at Bush and his entourage, but by far the majority of the crowd remained loyal to the new president, reacting jubilantly to his three walks and to the endless array of bands and floats.

And when Bush finally made it past the Ingham family of Springfield, 10-year-old Seth's eyes grew large and he waved frantically at the passing limousine. It was all over in a few seconds, but the impact lingered.

"President Bush waved at me," Seth shouted to his parents. "President Bush waved at me."

Staff writers Peter Baker, John Harris, Keith Harriston, Veronica Jennings, Carlos Sanchez, Chris Spolar and Pierre Thomas contributed to this report.

Articles appear as they were originally printed in The Washington Post and may not include subsequent corrections.