Oh, What a Lovely Party!

It was a real blast, a superbash, a party unlike any other party, ever. It stretched from coast to coast, from dawn to the small hours and then some--a glorious and gigantic birthday wingding that mobilized millions for a gaudy extravaganza of parades and picnics, rodeos and regattas, fireworks and other festivities too numerous to catalogue. It was an altogether fitting celebration of the 200th anniversary of America's independence, and perhaps the best part of it was that its supreme characteristics were good will, good humor and, after a long night of paralyzing self-doubt, good feelings about the U.S.

The big party officially began on northeastern Maine's Mars Hill. It was there, at 4:31 a.m., that the rays of the rising sun first struck U.S. soil on July 4, and 550 local potato farmers and tourists cheered wildly as National Guardsmen fired a 50-gun salute and raised an American flag. More than 7,500 miles west of Maine, 15,000 people--almost half the population of American Samoa --crammed into the capital, Pago Pago, for a weekend of pole climbing, dancing competitions and boat races.

So began and ended the nation's July 4 birthday party, but Bicentennial ceremonies continued through the week and will go on for some time to come. The magnificent tall ships that so enthralled New Yorkers raised anchor and headed toward more than a dozen cities, including Boston, Miami, Chicago and Los Angeles. Ten U.S. cities played host to Queen Elizabeth II, blood descendant of the last British monarch to reign over the colonies. Elsewhere, Revolutionary War battles and other historic events will be commemorated through the rest of the year.

Still, no one day is likely to match the fabulous Fourth. On the eve of the holiday, President Ford urged Americans to "break out the flag, strike up the band, light up the sky." They did all that, with gusto (see color pages). On the big day itself, Ford set the tone at Philadelphia's Independence Hall, where representatives of the 13 colonies signed the Declaration in 1776. Said he: "Liberty is a living flame to be fed, not dead ashes to be revered."

Americans, who still pride themselves on producing the biggest and the best, made it a day of superlatives: the largest cherry pie (60 sq. ft.), in George, Wash.; the biggest firecracker (a 165-lb. skyrocket), in Vancouver, Wash.; the most mammoth fireworks display (33 1/2 tons), in Washington, D.C.; and the biggest crowd (7 million), in New York City.

The most spectacular event was the gathering at New York of 212 sailing ships from 34 nations, including 16 of the world's largest windjammers. Led by the Coast Guard training ship Eagle, the armada glided past an honor guard of warships in the harbor and up the Hudson River. By Coast Guard estimate, some 30,000 small boats, ranging from 90-ft. yachts to dinghies and kayaks, maneuvered for a view in the crowded waters. Aboard the 80,000-ton aircraft carrier U.S.S. Forrestal, host ship for the nautical review, a radar operator stared at his screen in disbelief. Said he: "It looks like it's broken out with measles."

The view from the sailing ships was equally impressive. After sailing from Newport, R.I., to the Hudson aboard the Spanish topsail schooner Juan Sebastian de Elcano, TIME Senior Editor Timothy Foote reported: "Westward, toward Staten Island, and north toward the towers of Manhattan, the boats were as thick as a Hollywood director's dream of Dunkirk. Blimps and helicopters cavorted around the towers of the World Trade Center like tropical fish in a tank. Thunderous salutes and puffs of smoke exploded from Navy vessels.

Roars for More. "Off Spuyten Duyvil the tall ships moved in toward the eastern shore, waiting to come about. Heading back, we got our first look at the other sailboats behind us in the parade: Gypsy Moth V; the schooner Sir Winston Churchill with its all-women crew; a full-scale model of the Santa Maria; a Viking ship powered by an outboard Evinrude."

Aboard the Forrestal were more than 3,000 guests, including Monaco's Prince Rainier and Princess Grace, Norway's Crown Prince Harald and Princess Sonja, 70 foreign ambassadors, 50 members of Congress, most of the U.S. Cabinet and the President.

In Boston the ceremonies began with an otherworldly touch. Light from the star epsilon Lyrae, 200 light-years from earth, was converted into electrical current at the University of Hawaii's observatory, transmitted to Boston's Old North Church and used to light two replicas of the lanterns that signaled the midnight ride of Paul Revere in 1775. That night some 400,000 people, the biggest throng in the city's history, crowded onto the narrow Esplanade along the Charles River to hear a Boston Pops concert. As the orchestra reached the finale of Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, 105-mm. howitzers boomed, church bells pealed, fireworks showered the skies with color, and the crowds roared for more.

In Philadelphia at least 1 million people showed up for a re-enactment of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. At 2 p.m. the cracked Liberty Bell was struck softly with a rubber mallet. At the same time, Ford tolled the ship's bell aboard the Forrestal 13 times--once for each of the original colonies--and bells began pealing simultaneously all across the country in a joyous national chorus.

So it went in nearly every city and town in the country. There were massive parades, including a 10.8-mile-long spectacular in Los Angeles and a two-hour-long parade on Atlanta's Peachtree Street, in which the winning float was decorated with 2,000 roses, 2,500 daisies, 2,750 carnations, 5,000 gypsophila (babies'-breath), 10,000 ferns, 10,000 jade palms, 18,000 chrysanthemums and a lesser number of orchids, asters and sweetheart roses.

Upbeat Spirits. In Miami's "Little Havana," 20,000 people turned out for one of the biggest block parties ever staged. New Orleans' Jackson Square overflowed with throngs for the unveiling of a statue of the late Louis ("Satch-mo") Armstrong, who would have been 76 in the Bicentennial year. Oaths of allegiance in mass naturalization ceremonies were administered to 7,141 new citizens in Miami, 1,776 in Chicago, 1,100 in Detroit.

Not every event took place as scheduled. Scientists postponed the Mars landing of the Viking 1 space mission until a smoother touchdown site could be found (see SCIENCE). On New York's Verrazano-Narrows Bridge, gusty winds shredded the world's largest American flag, half again as big as a football field. Because an elevator broke down in the Washington Monument, officials were unable to write 1776-1976 HAPPY BIRTHDAY AMERICA in the sky with a laser beam.

But none of the miscues--and there were almost miraculously few--could dim Americans' upbeat spirits. Despite the immense crowds and huge traffic jams, people almost everywhere were remarkably good-natured and mutually helpful. There were few accidents and no major disturbances. Instead, across the country, there were moments and images to cherish: the Hudson River excursion boat that limped past the Forrestal, listing precariously because all its passengers had rushed to the starboard side to salute the flagship and sing the national anthem; the police chief of Indianapolis, surveying the sort of throng that usually gives cops nightmares, and beaming: "The backbone of America is out here."

And everywhere, the flag. Not so long ago, it was a symbol of division --burned by some or worn on the seats of their faded jeans, flaunted by others in their lapels or on their auto aerials. Last week it seemed to be back in its historic place as a loved and honored emblem of American unity.

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