When you're expecting a million, a crowd of 19 looks kind of small.

Ron Villareale predicted five weeks ago that 300 busloads would leave from southeastern Massachusetts alone, joining with untold legions of Greyhounds from around the nation for a "unity rally" on the steps of the Iranian embassy in Washington.

But Saturday night, when the faithful were supposed to gather in the parking lot of Foxboro's Schaefer Stadium to begin the trip, there were very few faithful.

By 8 p.m., besides Villareale and his Island, a pair of high school boys who arrived in a beat-up Chevy with "Sit On It Iran" scrawled on the side in red paint, and a drunk Cherokee Indian. There were also five chartered buses.

By 9 p.m., when the buses were supposed to pull out of the parking lot, the ranks had grown. A middle-aged Foxboro matron in an orange pantsuit and a mink coat, an overweight stetsonned friend of the family, and 15 or 20 reports. And another three buses.

On board, the Cherokee was nursing a can of Budweiser and swearing his allegiance to "the United States, the greatest place I've ever seen. And I've seen the the mountaintop," he added mysteriously.

People talked with some passion about showing the Iranians a thing or two, talk that was scattered with references to the Russians and the Commies.

Outside, talking to a television reporter, Villareale quoted John F. Kennedy '40. "I think it's about time we all started asking what we can do for our country," he said.

The tv camera crews clambered aboard the uncrowded bus, asking the driver if the Polka Fever tape could be turned down to allow an interview or two.

Villareale at this point still talked gamely to them of seven or eight busloads journeying to Washington. "We've got to show that unity is a real thing, that we really care," he said, adding that "if the Iranians can parade outside our embassy, we can do the same thing."

Many of the press n hand patriotically swallowed Villareale's line--Channel 4 began its late newscast with the report that busloads of Bay Staters were "already en route" to Washington. (The station illustrated the story with a shot of an empty bus returning to tis Bristol, R.I., garage).

Alas it wasn't to be. Shortly after the reporters left the parking lot, Villareale climbed aboard the only remaining bus to say," We've got some serious problems.

"This bus is half empty. It doesn't look like anyone else is going to come. I don't have the money to send a half-empty bus to Washington. We're going to have to cancel the trip."

Silence, and then a lukewarm cheer for Ron, because he looked so shocked, so hurt.

But dreams die hard. "I said to myself five weeks ago that I was going to be in front of that embassy, and I'll be damned if I'm going to back down," Villareale said. "Anyone who wants can ride down in my car.