The Eyes Of Texas Are Upon Them; Just Don't Ask Why

WHEN I heard about the Debutantes for Christ, each and every one of whom has accepted Jesus Christ as her personal savior, I knew it was time to start explaining about Texas debutantes.

Helen Handley, who was presented by the Order of the Alamo at the Fiesta de San Jacinto in San Antonio in 1933 - her title was Pahwarati of Madras, Duchess of the Deep Sea Divers, in the Court of India - has maintained for years that the way we do debutantes in Texas is passing strange. In Helen's family alone, there have been one Queen of Debutantes, one Duchess Butterfly in the Court of the Insects, one Duchess of the Falling Star in the Court of the Universe, and one Princess Horse Chestnut in the Court of the Trees.

Debutantes here do not have coming-out parties at which they wear white gowns and make curtsies to society at private balls. Hell, we have much more fun than that. You have to see it to believe it, but Texas debutantes often spend more than $20,000 on elaborate gowns, some with trains that are works of art.

In Laredo, there are two sets of debutantes presented annually on George Washington's birthday: The Society of Martha Washington presents mostly Anglo girls; the Princess Pocahontas Council presents mostly Mexican-American girls who dress in Indian costumes, hand-sewn and decorated with beads and feathers.

Some grouch always points out that Laredo is in the poorest part of the United States and there are hungry people within yards of

this annual shindig. The official response is that the pageant fosters patriotism and helps keep alive the customs and legends of a vanishing race - besides, it provides employment for local seamstresses.

The most elaborate and prestigious of all the Texas debutante shows is Fiesta in San Antonio, where the gowns are mind-bogglingly costly and ornate. The presentation is made at the Municipal Auditorium, and the girls enter one by one, each dragging an immense train. Instead of a simple curtsy, Texas debs sink slowly to the floor (this requires really good quadriceps) and touch their foreheads to the floor in front of their "dukes." They then look up at the "duke" (you don't want to dwell too much on the symbolism of this posture), and with his permission, they slowly rise from the floor (which takes great quadriceps).

They are then seated on risers until the entire stage is covered with these immense trains, glittering in the lights.

Texas debs get to do more than make one bow in their hometowns - they can go on the circuit and be presented as visiting royalty at courts in other cities. Another good gig is the Rose Festival in Tyler, where debs can ride in the annual Rose Parade. All this has far more in common with the traditions of Mardi Gras and carnival than it does with the demure deb parties in Greenwich, Conn., and Boston, Mass.

In Hispanic culture, a girl's quinceanera, her 15th birthday, is traditionally celebrated as her coming-of-age, and this tradition too has worked its way into South Texas debutante traditions.

In the big cities, Houston and Dallas, the top society debs are presented in standard white, but they still do the full kowtow, forehead to floor. In both cities, girls who don't quite make the first social cut are presented at secondary balls with less status.

It's a business. For a fee, women will arrange a debut for girls who haven't the social clout to swing it on their own. These girls are sometimes trotted around to shopping malls and supermarket openings just like beauty queens. The black and brown communities in these cities each have a debutante presentation, each extremely elegant and comme il faut.

The debuts vary with the personality of the towns. In Amarillo, a perfectly sensible place, a girl can make her debut as a Symphony Belle for $100 and is then obliged to usher at the symphony for the next year. She only has to pay for a $20,000 dress if she wants to join the Fiesta in San Antonio.

I suppose I should condemn all this on grounds that it is an elaborate display of wealth and snobbery and a painfully absurd misuse of money when there is suffering all around us. But Texas debutantes are like Las Vegas or a thousand-pound cheese or a submarine sandwich as long as a football field. Doesn't matter whether you like it or not - you have to admit it's really something. Even if you can't define what.

Helen Engelking Mather Handley, who did not "take" as a debutante - she is tall, strong-minded and flat-chested, any one of which is the kiss of death in San Antonio - says the best part of making a debut is the food and the second best is riding in the parade.

"There I was, bowing to the left, bowing to the right, smiling to the left, smiling to the right, when I noticed a great milling in the street ahead of me. As I went by, they cheered like mad. It was the girls from the red-light district. Of course they cheered - we were in the same line of work."

Molly Ivins is a columnist for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram. This week she is on vacation. This column first appeared in MS. magazine in July 1988. It also appears in her book, "Molly Ivins Can't Say That, Can She?"