A Blast of Food, Song and Heat at L. A. Fiesta

If you give it away, they will come.

No doubt about it: the music of dozens of Latin entertainment acts, the food from carnitas to Creole, lured about half a million people to Sunday’s daylong L. A. Fiesta Broadway, a 36-block party along the spine of the nation’s biggest Latino shopping district.

But, oh, those fabulous freebies. Hundreds waited in near-record 90-degree heat for the giveaways: toothpaste, crayons, orange pop, sun visors, key chains and--the longest line of all, snaking around a corner and down the sidewalks--for free lighters and jackets from a cigarette brand whose representatives repeated regretfully that, no, they could not give away free cigarettes because it is illegal this year.

The lines were far shorter but business was still steady at the free diabetes, blood pressure and cholesterol-test booths sponsored by local health agencies.

Marcie Rincon, 6, skipped triumphantly away from the children’s area, brandishing a small plastic bag emblazoned with the Crayola brand name. “Two crayons!” she boasted. “Free! And a marker, too!”

Broadway, usually crowded with cars and buses, was given over to a crowd of varied ethnicity. Brave souls stepped up to sing Mexican ranchera songs at a Japanese-style karaoke booth. From a row of booths down the middle of the street, fiesta-goers ate egg rolls and hot dogs, Mexican, Haitian and Nigerian delicacies, and played games as old as the midway for prizes of stuffed animal in colors nature never saw. A fluffy white orangutan with a rose-pink bottom was carried off piggyback-style by the man who won it.

“This is my favorite kind of party!” Sergio Martinez yelled joyously. The 19-year-old, of Inglewood by way of Guatemala City, had to shout over a mariachi band, which had struck up his sister’s favorite Mexican standard, “Volver Volver. “

He has come to this fair for each of its three years, he said, before the band got to the chorus. His entire family--mother, sister, both his brothers--surrounded him, flung back their heads and warbled, “Volver, volver, vol-v-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-r-r-r .”

As it has been since 1990, the event, sponsored by Spanish-language television station KMEX, was virtually trouble-free. But as the festival was breaking up, an unidentified man was shot in the leg near the corner of Broadway and 5th Street at 7:30 p.m., police said. A suspect was arrested shortly afterward, but his name was not available, investigators said.

Because the shooting occurred after the formal festival events were over, “we’re not calling this a festival-related incident,” said Officer Michael Nolan.

“Having it downtown is great because it brings people here, and we’ve gotten a bad rap,” street actor Jay Glamour, who lives downtown, said before the shooting. “You don’t have to worry about the crazy drive-bys here because it’s well secured. Everybody seems to get along pretty good during this festival.”

Unlike previous years--when crowd estimates by police and organizers differed by tens of thousands--the Los Angeles Police Department did not offer official estimates Sunday. (News reports quoted unnamed police sources who estimated the crowd at 300,000, but organizers said their security officers told them the figure was about 750,000.)

Order was ensured by 500 police officers and 650 private security officers. At the barricaded entrances, they checked out everyone for weapons and alcohol, from babies and the elderly to a homeless woman named Mary, who got turned away because she tried to come to the party with a can of beer.

On Skid Row, the streets had been cleared of their usual coating of litter and grime, and the fiesta interrupted the noontime naps of three men sleeping on cardboard boxes. “I’m gonna move down to the mission,” groused Willie Gaynor, 45, as the electric sounds of Grupo Los Pobres roused him from a sound sleep. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m not feelin’ too fun-lovin’ today.”

He was probably the only one who wasn’t.

Despite the crushing heat, the sidewalks were packed--old people, young couples, teen-age boys shouting “Ayyy, mamita !” at passing women--and children everywhere.

Olga Hernandez brought her two toddlers down from Hollywood, shading their heads with two bright red and white umbrella hats. A half-hour into the fiesta, however, 2-year-old Walter was slumped in a heap on the sidewalk, listlessly stabbing the air with the straw from his lemonade, while his sister, 3-year-old Julisa, wilted against a taco booth.

“It’s too hot,” conceded Hernandez. “But they aren’t complaining yet. We’ll see in a little while.”

The day’s bestseller was a $2 umbrella hat. Miguel Torres came from Bell Gardens to sell his straw and felt hats, and “we’ve been doing all right,” he said. “I’ve sold about 50 hats to now, and I’d like to sell about $1,000 worth before the day is done.”

“We’ve had some heat problems, but not much,” said Chad Smith, the American Red Cross’ first-aid coordinator. At the four Red Cross stations, volunteers handed out cups of water and were spraying fair-goers with cooling water as they walked by. “I have already gone through 100 gallons today,” said Red Cross volunteer Sheila Brown. “And that’s just at 2 o’clock.” She had expected the ration to last all day.

The festive mood enhanced both love and money. In the office of the 24-hour Guadalupe Wedding Chapel, Angel and Delfina, ages 20 and 16, sat with Delfina’s father for the first of three hours of counseling they must have before a court will allow the underage girl to marry. Over the bright noise of mariachis, the counselor asked: “Angel, you understand the responsibility you will have?”

At the chapel door, an Anglo couple who wed there 26 months ago popped in from the party to say hello. “We had to get a restraining order on my ex-boyfriend,” the woman said happily. “An hour after we got married, he found out, and hoo boy!”

At the fringes of the fiesta, street vendors sold paletas--candy or ice cream on a stick--peanuts, cotton candy, American flags and fruit cups.

Outside her mother’s Spring Street beauty shop, Adrianne Sandoval, 13, tossed her long, dark hair and tried not to let her braces show. It wasn’t tough because she was mildly miffed.

“My mom is making us sit here selling lemonade,” she sulked. “I wish I was out there watching the bands.”

The bands and singers--such as Alvaro Torres of El Salvador, Willy Chirino of Cuba, Los Diablos from Mexico--revved the throngs all day, including six hefty Anglo men in straw sombreros who conga-ed cheerfully through the crowd.

“I came to see Gerardo, Menudo, Lucero and Mandora,” said Olivia Rodriguez, 17, of Cudahy.

“We came for the Cinco de Mayo festivities,” said her mother, Maria. “We’re from Mexico, and we still feel pride for our traditions.”

The fiesta is becoming a traditional run-up to Cinco de Mayo, the date in 1862 when a small Mexican force held off French invaders at Puebla, shortly before the French army overran Mexico and put a puppet Austrian prince on the throne.

Eric Galicia, 21, a Mexico City native cool in a three-foot-wide straw sombrero he picked up in Tijuana, drove all the way from Oxnard. “This is our third year, and we love it. All the peoples together, it is wonderful. It reminds me of Mexico.”

Times staff writer Shawn Hubler contributed to this story.