Spring Break at South Padre

By Richard Woodbury/South Padre Island

After students thundered through his lobby, the manager of the South Padre Hilton resort christened it the Gaza Strip and barricaded one entrance with potted plants. The Holiday Inn signed on 80 additional workers to deal with the overflow of revelers. The Sheraton, its $270-a-night suites jammed, brought in a security force from Dallas.

In various ways the tiny Texas beach town of South Padre Island (pop. 1,052) was coping with an invasion of college students and the questionable distinction of being the newest hot spot on the spring-break circuit. A short causeway ride off the south Texas coast, South Padre Island has attracted students from some 70 campuses this year. By the end of the month nearly 200,000 had hit the local beaches, a fivefold increase from five years ago.

The island's ascent as a spring destination comes partly at the expense of Florida's sybaritic stretch. Fort Lauderdale, for example, has tried to discourage collegiate revelers by building a beachfront wall and tightly enforcing drinking laws. Some venturesome students are taking advantage of the strong dollar or bargain excursions by flying to resorts in Mexico and the Caribbean, but the sand-covered, 34-mile-long sliver of South Padre Island has proved to be an inexpensive and enticing alternative to Florida.

The fun seekers herald their arrival with windshield graffiti reading PADRE NAKED, TEQUILA TRUCK and SINK THE ISLAND. Youths have carted off street signs, & spray painted condo windows and littered the pristine beach with cans and bottles. Says Fire Department Aide Bobbye Dowda: "Ceilings are torn out. Kids dare you to run into them on the street."

Yet most locals welcome the invasion, which should provide a $10 million boost to the battered economy. "The students are a huge shot in the arm," says Mayor Bob Pinkerton. "We're trying to help them, not hang them." Agrees Tourist Bureau Publicist Dick Bushnell: "Maybe Lauderdale doesn't need 'em, but we do."

South Padre Island began catching on with youth in 1982, as the decline of the peso spelled economic disaster for Mexican owners of the island's high- rise condominiums. Many of these units went on the market as short-term rentals. Thus for much less than the $140 price of a cramped hotel room, students can pool their resources for a two-bedroom luxury suite. Because it is only a 30-minute drive to the Mexican border, South Padre Island has benefited as more states raised their drinking age to 21. Last week chartered buses delivered revelers to the cantinas of Matamoros, where the legal age is 18 and a case of Corona beer sells for just $6.

Some returning minors were nabbed by agents of the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission, but many others got through. Explained one Indiana student: "All you do is give it to an older friend." On the island, the jail quickly filled to capacity (60) as cops contended with the rowdies. Police checked hotel lobbies and pool decks, carting off underage drinkers. But mostly the officers went easy, tolerating all but the nastiest drunks and even accepting credit cards for bond and payment of minor fines. "We're not hostile," observed Chief Ed Sanders. "We understand they're down here to have a good time." Agreed Justice of the Peace Robert Tenison, who was assessing mostly $70 disorderly-conduct fines rather than the maximum $200: "These are college kids. People are willing to forgive."

That graciousness was not lost on Tammy Letherer, 20, a junior from Indiana University. "You can't believe how friendly the people are," she said. "It isn't crazy like Lauderdale." The hospitable atmosphere has also kept the students from getting too far out of hand. "Lauderdale is packed and wild," observed Chris Deckel, 19, a University of Notre Dame sophomore. "This is a delight." The result: a laid-back, lovefest atmosphere suffused the hot, windy beaches. "There's not a lot of sleaze and guys trying to grab your butt," noted Molly Houser, 21, a University of Missouri senior.

Activities directors from the various hotels crammed each day with a Club Med melange of crab races, scuba, and belly-flop and tanning contests. "Some of it's a little crazy," said Hilton Director Bill Parousis, smiling as he oversaw a two-mile-long line of students attempting to fashion the world's largest sand castle. "But it's keeping them out of trouble." One sign of the times: the fear of AIDS injected a note of caution to the usual sex-charged atmosphere of spring break. Comic Jay Leno drew cheers by noting that it was "National Condom Week," and the island's lone druggist, Ed Walsh, reported a brisk business in the ten brands he stocks.

As the hordes mellowed out on the beer and sun, Hilton Hotel Manager Mark Hamner declared, "We're what Lauderdale was ten years ago." But others worried about how much more carnival the isle could stand. Pointed out Mayor Pinkerton: "We're not hostile to anyone -- yet."