In these parts, “the parade” usually means the parade, the New Year’s Pasadena blockbuster that’s broadcast the wide world over. Body clock permitting, you can watch it live in the Caribbean, in parts of Latin America and in Armenia.
For the perpetually reinventing place that is Southern California, the Tournament of Roses parade, dating from January 1890, ranks as practically Mesozoic — older than the zipper, the Teddy bear, and the game of basketball.
Unfazed by such hoary competition, cities and neighborhoods across Los Angeles have nonetheless staged their own parades by the score — famous and obscure ones, whimsical and mournful ones, thriving and defunct ones. In sum, we love a parade.
Los Angeles’ city fathers, so adept at ballyhoo, just hated it that the highfalutin’ town up the Arroyo Seco had thought up their big flowery promotional parade first. So in February 1894, L.A. conjured up the Fiesta de las Flores, a title chosen in a competition above submissions like “Angels’ Carnival,” which to modern ears is more suggestive of an Anne Rice novel than a floral street party.
Cities and towns all over the county fielded entries; those that did not — well, there was almost a tone of menace to the chairman’s remark that “communities not represented on this occasion will receive criticism, without a doubt.” Floats, carriages, pageants, musicians were all in the running for cash awards and prizes such as sets of underwear and Hungarian vases.
This fiesta’s date was not in January but in April, a month when even winter-bound latitudes can show off blooming flowers. In fits and starts, this fiesta went on until 1916. A visit by President William McKinley moved it to line up with his May arrival, and his parade automobile, covered in 10,000 carnations, was the fiesta’s high-water mark. The fiesta was revived briefly in the 1930s to coincide with the September anniversary of the founding of L.A., and thereafter — well, game, set, and…