NEW ORLEANS (AP) — In a city where glitter and glitz is commonplace, the Zulu Ball still manages to grab the spotlight.

Housed in the city’s massive convention center, 18,000 people turned out on Friday night to see the flamboyance the Carnival krewe serves up each Mardi Gras, and all of them — thanks to a strict dress code — were decked out in long evening gowns, tuxedos and tails.

Well, all except the krewe’s characters like Mr. Big Stuff, the Big Shot, Witchdoctor, and the king and queen and their courts. They were resplendent in feathers, rhinestones, satin and velvet.

‘‘This is one of the most elegant events anywhere,’’ said Charles Hamilton, the Zulu president and a member for 31 years.

The ball opens with four hours of pageantry, with the various characters and their escorts parading in costumed glory, the introduction of 30 Zulu Maids, debutantes making their bows to society, and the royalty that reigns over the festivities for the year — all before the dancing begins.

The Zulu king no longer wears ragged pants and a lard-can crown or carries a banana stalk scepter as he did in the early years. That’s just one of the many things that’s changed over the last 100 years for one of the most irreverent krewes of Mardi Gras.

Sure, the majority of people marching in Tuesday’s parade and riding the 40 floats, will wear, as they always have, blackface, huge afro wigs and grass skirts. But Zulu, the primarily black Mardi Gras organization, once denigrated by the more serious of white Carnival groups, now claims influence extending all the way to the Barack Obama administration, where New Orleans native and former Zulu queen Desiree Glapion Rogers is the White House social secretary.

‘‘Zulu has really grown,’’ said Vincent Stripling, 66, a member for 41 years. ‘‘When I joined there were 45 members, now there are over 500 and a waiting list of people who want to join.’’

Started as the Tramps around 1900, by 1909 the group had become The Zulu Social Aid and Pleasure Club. The organization was designed to provide blacks with both a way to socialize and much needed burial insurance in a time when they were unable to buy policies.

A side benefit was providing a way for black residents of New Orleans to enjoy Mardi Gras — which was mostly confined to the city’s white gentry — by holding their own parades and balls and crowning faux royalty.

Zulu has always been a people’s parade, rarely touched by the celebrity that has become the hallmark of some groups, although in 1949, Louis Armstrong fulfilled a childhood dream and put on black face and a grass skirt as King Zulu.

‘‘This is something we do for ourselves,’’ said Joan Smith, 47, a housekeeper who was busy photographing the ball ceremonies. ‘‘Other people want to come see it, but if they didn’t we’d do it every year anyway.’’

Zulu’s parades do not have the biting satire or political commentary of many parades, said Mardi Gras historian Arthur Hardy, but they are among the most popular.

‘‘The one thing Zulu knows how to do is have fun,’’ Hardy said. ‘‘And of course they have the most coveted Mardi Gras throw — the coconut.’’

The painted coconuts are among the most prized catches at Mardi Gras parades. These days, for safety’s sake, a city ordinance requires that they be handed to parade-goers rather than thrown.

Zulu was one of the first krewes to integrate. Both blacks and whites, men and women ride the floats on Mardi Gras, and all of them are in blackface just like the old minstrel shows. Riders show up before dawn to put on their grass skirts and wigs and have the garish black paint with white highlights applied.

The tradition of riders wearing blackface dates to the group’s beginnings. It was believed to have begun to mock white ideas of blacks, and continued because it was a cheap way to mask for the event.

But when the civil rights movement took hold in New Orleans, Zulu’s popularity fell. The group was called embarrassing by many of those working to end segregation in the state.

For two years, 1965 and 1966, the parades rolled without members in blackface. The strain of the controversy reduced the group to 16 year-round members.

That was before the Zulus recalled why they were formed in the first place, Stripling said — to have a good time.

‘‘No more of that dignity stuff,’’ announced the Zulu king Milton Bienamee in 1967. ‘‘We’re going back to the old traditions.’’

Eventually, those old traditions gained new appreciation in the growing black middle class of New Orleans.

‘‘Back then blacks were calling us a bunch of names,’’ Stripling said. ‘‘Now they’re members of Zulu and painting their faces along with the rest of us.’’

When he joined Zulu there were five floats in the parade, Stripling said. Now there are 40. And the two bands that once marched with them has grown to 20 now, he said.

‘‘We went from tramps to the backbone of the community,’’ Stripling said.

These days Zulu membership ranges from professionals — doctors, lawyers, businessmen and educators, to the average working person.

Tyrone Mathieu Sr., a UPS driver, is this year’s Zulu king, his wife, Sheila, a nurse, is queen.

From a group that once was limited to parading on the back streets of the city, Zulu now leads off the parades on Mardi Gras morning. And the Zulu king and queen join Rex, the head of New Orleans’ most prestigious parade, arriving at the French Quarter riverfront Monday night to kick off the final round of pre-Lenten celebration.

A yearlong exhibit, ‘‘From Tramps to Kings: 100 Years of Zulu,’’ at the Louisiana State Museum, in the French Quarter, marks the anniversary. Attendance from Jan. 1 though Feb. 15 this year more than doubled last year’s mark, said Ryan Shae, public relations and event manager for the museum.

‘‘It don’t get more Mardi Gras or more New Orleans than Zulu,’’ said Don Franklin, 37, a cab driver, who is riding on Tuesday. ‘‘This is the real deal. And more fun than you ever had.’’

http://lsm.crt.state.la.us/zulu/html/tramps.html

http://www.kreweofzulu.com/