My friends will tell you that the only reason I agreed to lead the Peace Center's Alamo workshop is because I get to wear my coonskin cap as I sing along during the Disney "Davy Crockett" film clip.

Not true.

I do admit to becoming obsessed with the Alamo on Feb. 23, 1955, the day the Disney Alamo episode first aired, but hey, I was only 2 years old.

And, yes, I did have a coonskin cap then, but it has long since been eaten by moths. I had to buy a new one for the workshop and, contrary to what these so-called friends might tell you, I do not wear it around the house. It's for special occasions.

My brother and I shared an Alamo play set, one of the first made. The Marx toy company was in such a hurry to rush it into the Crockett-crazed market that they just slapped a tin Alamo façade on their Wild West fort.

They didn't have time to make the molds for the little Mexican soldiers, so they shipped it with the original Indians. I was in high school before I realized that the Alamo wasn't a cowboys and Indians thing.

I'm no expert, but in preparing for the workshop I have watched every Alamo film several times.

I quickly figured out that Alamo films, drama and documentary alike, are more about the era in which they were made than about 1836.

"Martyrs of the Alamo" was produced in 1915 by D.W. Griffith, who filmed the outrageously racist "Birth of a Nation" that same year.

The cause of the Texas revolution, according to Griffith, was the disrespect shown toward virginal blonde Anglo women by the leering Mexican soldiers quartered in San Antonio. The battle of the Alamo is depicted as a race riot. It's embarrassing to watch.

The Disney Alamo was not much better. When asked by his friend Georgie why he's going to Texas, Crockett somberly replies, "There are Americans in trouble." Not a hint that Texas was actually part of Mexico and the Americans were illegal interlopers.

As Crockett and his crew approach San Antonio, there is a scene where they encounter a humble Mexican family escaping to safety on their donkey. The body language is clear: the cowardly Tejanos flee danger while the brave Americans rush off to fight for freedom. I can't believe I fell for that.

John Wayne's "Alamo" acknowledges the bravery of the Mexican soldiers, but it is less fair to the Tejanos. The women are shown as floozies. Most are bar dancers, and Wayne's Crockett is down by the river necking with Flaca 15 minutes after they met. Juan Seguin, the one possible Tejano hero, turns out to be unreliable.

Most Alamo films take the line that Anglo Texians and freedom-loving Americans fought against the brutal Mexicans and died as courageous martyrs for the liberty of people everywhere.

In the past decade or so this view has been expanded to include Tejanos, who also fought valiantly for freedom and deserve equal honor for their courage and martyrdom.

It's more complicated that that. Until now the Tejano side of the Texas Revolution has not been accurately told in film.

Last week I saw a preview of Joseph Tovares' "Remember the Alamo," which will air on "American Experience" on KLRN at 9 p.m. Monday and again at 1 a.m. Tuesday.

I was prepared to sneer but came away a convert. He got it right.

Tovares convincingly explains why some Tejanos sided with the Americans against the Mexican government.

He also shines a light on the aftermath. If Tejanos were so central to the revolution, how did they end up as second-class citizens in their own country?

I'm going to watch it again. And again. And then I'm going to burn that coonskin cap. Alamo films have finally grown up, and I have, too.

Susan Ives can be reached at suives@texas.net.