‘92 REPUBLICAN CONVENTION : Delegates Gear Up for Grand Old Parties : Festivities: The bashes have long been glitzy money machines for the Republicans. But the recession could dampen some of the fun this year.

Now comes the time for some serious Republican partying.

The Republican National Convention is about to crank up here in humid Houston and--political insider questions aside--much of the suspense revolves around such matters as the quality of the hors d’oeuvres and the vintage of the wines.

George Bush, the delegates know, will be the nominee. Dan Quayle will be his running mate. The platform committee will have completed its work by Monday morning.

But it is the quality of the partying that carries an element of mystery. Who is on the “A List” and who has been left off? Which gathering is chic and which is humdrum? And has Houston’s long-running recession put a crimp in Texans’ party style?

River Oaks, the city’s most posh neighborhood, is about to get a major workout, given the fact that it is laden with well-off Republicans.

The subtext here is money--big money--that will be needed to finance what looks like a bruising and expensive campaign in the coming months. Although each candidate gets about $55 million in federal funds to run his campaign--and must limit himself to that--money raised at the convention can be used by the party or by so-called independent groups to finance efforts that support the ticket as well as for such activities as getting out the vote.

The Democrats made great hay of the $3 million and change they raised at parties during their convention in New York last month. The Republicans, generally a wealthier lot, can be expected to pull in much more.

The trappings, however, may be somewhat less grand than might be expected of Republican party-throwers, given that the country is in the midst of a recession and that Houston still is feeling the effects of the oil bust of the early 1980s.

“I don’t think we’re going to see any three-ring circuses,” said Hal Foster, a public relations man who counts some of the city’s most prominent citizens as his clients. “You look at what Houston has been through in the last decade and there’s not much flash-and-cash anymore. Those days are gone.”

Or, as Jackson Hicks, a caterer to high society, put it: “I can’t help but think that people in the political arena are somewhat sensitive to the state of the economy. But nor do they want to have it appear so desperate that they’re serving popcorn.”

There will be parties galore, hundreds of them--breakfasts and brunches, lunches and dinners, opportunities to schmooze and buttonhole. Parties at which cowboy boots are mandatory. Parties, kept very hush-hush for the really big donors, the $100,000-plus variety. Parties for the media and parties honoring members of the Bush Cabinet.

Today, Houston high society will open its doors to the various state delegations descending on the city. The California, Texas and Florida delegations will be feted at a huge outdoor bash--complete with air conditioning powered by huge blowers--that has been dubbed the “Coast-to-Coast Party.”

One society source--who asked, of course, not to be identified--said the host committee had “one helluva time getting people to host parties for the delegations. I think these people don’t want to open their homes to all these strangers. The delegates aren’t society-type people; they don’t run in the same crowd.”

Without a doubt, the most sought-after invitation of the convention will be on Thursday, the evening that Bush makes his acceptance speech. An elite group of 400 or so will convene at the opulent mansion of wealthy businessman Robert McNair. Then they’re off to the Astrodome for Bush’s speech, followed by breakfast at the River Oaks Country Club. All that for $2,500 a plate.

Maxine Mesinger, the longtime gossip columnist for the Houston Chronicle, the state’s largest newspaper, said there has been much talk in high society about the convention but that the conversations have centered more on the possibility that Bush could lose than on which party to shoot for.

“The talk goes more into Bush’s problems than it does social things,” she said. “People are worried, really worried.”

Although the gatherings this week may not be as flashy as in times past, the party-givers are not exactly serving up bologna sandwiches.

Laura and Bob Sakowitz (old-line, old money) will entertain the Alabama delegation by having a troupe of waiters clad in red, white and blue standing on the front walkway with a choice of champagne or bourbon-and-Coke to welcome their guests.

Planned menus call for the likes of sauteed crab cakes, roasted round of beef, shrimp, oysters, smoked salmon, veal empanadas and stuffed chicken breasts.

“We’re not talking budget restrictions,” said caterer Doreen Kaplan. “But we’re not talking caviar and lobster either.”

Foster tells the story of a wealthy socialite in Dallas who held a cocktail party for 100 people during the 1984 Republican Convention. What made it unusual was that she held it in her spacious closet.

“We’ve got some mighty big closets here too,” he said. “But I don’t think you’re going to see any of that.”