Little Helpers Aren’t Enough: Santa Needs an Image Expert

On a drizzly and warm Wednesday afternoon, Mike Giulian stood in front of F.A.O. Schwartz and posed for a picture with friends. Behind them, signs in the windows announced, "Entire store for sale!"

The group posed, their faces arranged not in the bright smiles of holiday making, as one might expect on a December afternoon at a world-famous toy store, but in the sober expressions befitting the store’s possible imminent doom.

"Yeah, it’s terrible," Mr. Giulian, 33, said, referring to the fact that the store has filed for bankruptcy protection two times. "I mean, Santa Claus might as well be dead."

Santa Claus isn’t exactly dead. But, from a public relations point of view, Santa --- as the big-hearted symbol of Christmas spirit, pine-scented purveyor of presents, adjudicator of both naughty and nice --- is having a pretty rough year.

There’s "Bad Santa," the dark comedy about an alcoholic department-store Santa with a foul mouth and a criminal disposition. And "The Hebrew Hammer," in which Santa is offed by his own son, Damian, played by Andy Dick.

There was Gay Santa: On Thanksgiving, the Broadway actor Harvey Fierstein dressed in drag as Mrs. Claus for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, the costume an insinuation that Santa Claus was half of a same-sex couple.

On Dec. 8, the Zicklin School Of business at Baruch College released a study --- albeit a rather limited one --- reporting that more than 95 percent of children visiting Santa at two large shopping malls near New York City were visibly indifferent to Santa.

As a further but certainly not final indignity, last Monday a bearded man in a red fur-trimmed Santa suit brandished a handgun and demanded money from a Pennsylvanian bank.

It appears that Santa’s image as a sacred icon of American popular culture and childhood lore is a bit shopworn. One reason, say those who have observed the changing role of Santa in the culture, is that children exposed to an overwhelming array of consumer goods and products, know at increasingly young ages that presents come not from the North Pole but from the mall or the FedEx guy. Nor do many of them shopping and the receiving of gifts as a rare experience, or as a reward, but as ritual practiced almost daily.

James B. Witchell, the author of "Living It Up: America’s Love Affair With luxury" (Simon & Schuster , 2003), said that it is in the hands of the mall --- America’s contemporary playground and public square --- that Santa's has suffered his biggest setback.

"WE used to have calendric rhythms," Mr. Twitchell said. "You would buy your winter garb before Christmas. At Easter you bought a springtime ensemble. At the end of August, there was this phenomenon of back-to-school clothes. Now we buy 24/7." Christmas, Mr. Twitchell said, is just another Saturnalian excursion to the mall and Santa, no longer the provider of rare treats and necessities, a vestigial symbolic appendage.

But no matter how empty and sallow Santa’s once rosy image may seem today, he has weathered image problems before. Leigh Eric Schmidt, a professor of religion at Princeton University and the author of "Consumer Rites: The Buying and Selling of American Holidays" (Princeton, 1997) said that Santa "in some sense has always had a p.r. problem. Even in the 19^th century, images of Santa carrying around a switch and leaving lumps of coal for children were not exactly sweet."

Stephen Nissenbaum, a professor of history at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, and author of "The Battle for Christmas" (Knopf, 1996) said that Santa’s current image problem may reflect the tendency of nostalgia to paint rosier pictures.

"Every generation has sort of imagined that it’s own Christmas is inauthentic and that the previous generation’s Christmas was somehow more authentic," he said.

But Victor Nevada, a retired real estate agent from Calgary, Alberta, who runs year-round weekend seminars to train department-store Santa's, said he had seen the attitudes of both children and parents to Santa Claus change noticeably in the last two decades.

"The kids are much more sophisticated," said Mr. Nevada, who has worked as Santa for 20 years. To assure that his Santa's are as savvy as the children, Mr. Nevada takes the Santa's-in-training to toy stores and lectures them on the intricacies of the X-Box, or Bionicles, or Producer Barbie. "Kids know specific model numbers now," he said. "Santa's need to know the inventory or the kids get skeptical.

As part of the course, a lawyer lectures the Santa's on the potential legal pitfalls of Santa employment.

"He comes to basically to ensure that the Santa's are aware of liability and should carry insurance," Mr. Nevada said. "If you drop a child, there could be some serious repercussions. Everybody is litigation-crazy these days. Please cover yourself for a million dollars anyway."

(Santa's like many American workers, often undergo criminal background checks when they are hired.)

Mr. Nevada teaches the Santa's to repeat everything the child says loudly enough so parents get to hear what gift they need to buy --- as in "Oh, you say you want a Bratz Formal Funk Super Stylin’ Runway Disco?" The technique also serves the equally important purpose of protecting the Santa's from sexual harassment complaints; because parents hear that the content of the conversation is guided by the child.

When Mr. Nevada plays Santa, he doesn’t smoke a pipe --- he got complaints from parents that tobacco related paraphernalia encouraged smoking --- nor does he give out lumps of coal.

"First of all, the kids don’t know what coal is," Mr. Nevada said. "Second, parents operate on the principle that the kid gets presents whether or not he is naughty or nice." Parents today, he said, are frankly terrified of their children and afraid to reinforce the message that Santa has promoted in the past; if you’re bad, you don’t get any presents.

About three weeks ago, Mr. Nevada said, he played Santa's at a local mall and saw a boy in line --- age 8 or so --- throw his baseball cap squarely into his mother’s face. The parents laughed uncomfortably, but did nothing.

Mr. Nevada faced a moral decision; should he capitulate and offer blandishments to the brat, or, attired in Santa’s authoritative garb., teach him a lesson?

"I asked him to apologize to his mother, and he said no, and so I told him I was very sorry, but I didn’t really have time for him that day," Mr. Nevada said. The boy started to cry. "Were they crocodile tears? I don’t know. The kids can turn them off and on like taps."

Mr. Nevada said he became anxious as he saw the manager of the event approach him. But she told him he had done exactly what she would have done. And eventually, the child returned and said he had apologized to his mother.

"Nevertheless, I told him the page in my book with his name on it was a little smudged for the year," Mr. Nevada said.

He need not worry about losing his job as Santa; he brings in too much money. Depending on the geographic location, Mr. Nevada and his course’s alumni make anywhere from $16,000 to $45,000 for the season --- typically, four to six weeks before Christmas --- but the big money is in the photographs of the children and Santa, with profits going to department store coffers.

Last year, one of Mr. Nevada’s Santa's kept track. He saw about 20,000 children, and each child was required to buy a photo for $25. "That’s half a million dollars for the store," Mr. Nevada said. "Not to mention the money that the parent spends in the store while they are there.

Bill Egan, a Christmas historian and journalist in Flagler Beach, Fla. Said that his fondest memory of Santa was visiting Macy’s flagship store in New York City when he was a child living in New Jersey. "I bet the Macy’s Santa Claus is about as close as you can get to the real thing these days," he said.

However, at Macy’s today, playing Santa Claus is a job that appears by this reporter’s rough estimate to handled by about seven men. Children and their parents wait in a line that loops through a maze of singing trees, toy trains and Styrofoam candy before they arrive at Santa’s workshop, where an elf ushers them into one of several rooms, each of them housing a Santa Claus.

When asked how many men were working the job of Santa, a Macy’s spokeswoman, Elina Kazan, adjuster her voice to a wincingly sweet timbre, and said there was only one Santa Claus. And he sees 250,000 to 300,000 visitors a season.

"His name is Kris Kringle," she said.

Yeah, that gem of information and a transit card will get someone a ride on the subway. What about all those guys in the booths, Ms. Kazan?

"There is only one Santa Claus," she said.

When informed of the Santa sweatshop at Macy’s, Mr. Egan, the Christmas historian, said, "Multiple Santa's? Like a production line? Oh, that’s awful. Oh how terrible. You just wrecked my Christmas."

Few symbols are more synonymous with Christmas than Santa Claus. This time of year, the red suit pops up in malls, city streets and parades, and the jolly guy is a symbol of caring, giving and understanding.

The character behind the beard is often seen as stately, cheery and patient, but the job can be thankless.

And it’s often done for free by volunteers.

They are frequently asked for things even the real Saint Nick would have a problem providing, such as a baby sitter or a reunion between estranged parents.

They are tested on the technicalities of being Santa, his sleigh and the flying reindeer – discussions which often turn into battles of wit with people still aged in the single digits.

The struggles don’t end there.

Of course, there’s the oft-attempted beard tug – which proves embarrassing for the glued on chin hair, and means pain for the Santa's with real whiskers.

Some have been forced to endure the degradation of being vomited, urinated or spit upon.

Fearing harassment on the part of unruly teens in the past, some Calgary Santa's have asked to be escorted out of malls by security personnel.

They have also faced accusations of molestation and received formal complaints from mall managers for not being "jolly" enough.

William and Dorothy Sieppert, whose real names are Mr. and Mrs. Claus, are the residents of Southcentrre Mall’s Santa Land. The two have often seen teens standing on the upper levels of the mall launching paper wrappers, food and spit at the Santa Land below.

And every now and then, the naughty kids come in droves.

"Just the other day, for the first hour at least, every one of them was unruly," said Dorothy.

Yelling, crying, fighting and breaking things, they make life difficult for Santa and all those around him.

"This little boy was telling off his dad and he wasn’t even two years old," said Dorothy.

Victor Nevada, a Santa Claus 365 days a year, runs the Santa School in Calgary and has authored a book outlining everything one needs to know to be Santa.

He remembers being so outraged by a boy who so severely abused his mom right in front of him that he refused service.

Known as the Santa who can pull a gift out of his belt or boot, Nevada dealt with another harassing and smart-alecky teen by pulling up his pant leg to reveal the butt of a replica pistol sitting barrel down in his boot.

"I think you’d better straighten out there my son," Nevada told the boy, who despite knowing the pistol wasn’t real, was so stunned by the act he had no recourse but to sit there and be lectured by Santa Claus.

Mike Shepherd, who magically transforms into Santa as Chinook Centre, described how most Santa's feel.

"It’s the best and worst job in the world," said Shepherd.

"Everyone should have to be Santa at least once during their lives –the world would be a much better place for it."

Shepherd recalls how a large group or more than six children climbed onto his sleigh with the youngest – not knowing what was in store – tagging behind.

Once the little one reached the floor of the sleigh, all the siblings ran away, leaving him alone with Santa.

When Shepherd picked him up, the child burst into tears.

"He screamed in absolute horror and the family just laughed … they set the poor kid up," he said.

Other Santa's mishaps aren’t as scary, but some are disruptive enough that they can add up to a miserable day.

Donald Sawatzky, a retired Calgary firefighter, has been the old saint long enough to be the real yuletide deal.

He has donned the red suit for 50 years and has hosted almost 10,000 official occasions.

"Little, little people, if they look really excited sit on my glove," said Sawatzky, adding that bit of Christmas protocol is not up for negotiation.

"I’ve learned that’s it’s a lot easier to change a glove than it is a whole outfit."

Before adopting such policy, babies wetting themselves while on his knees posed a significant problem.

"It would run down my leg and into my boot and it was usually an hour before I could (sneak away) and change."

It is that exact problem that has Southcentre’s Santa William singing the praises of Pampers.

"Since Pampers, I’ve never had a wet baby," he said. "In the old days, it used to happen all the time."

Another Santa couldn’t escape the sometimes heavy burden of being Mr. Claus, even at his own home.

Following his first Calgary Santa Claus Parade, Bart Dailley was spotted by a child while pulling up to his home in full Claus regalia.

"As soon as I opened the door to my house, he yelled out: "What are you doing here?"

Dailley told the boy that he’d been in the parade that morning and the people in the house had offered to put him up while he was in town.

"A little while later, he knocked on the door again and said: "I want Beasty Boys and Pokemon cards (and walked away)," said Dailley.

Moments later, another knock beckoned Dailley to the door.

There the young boy stood with a handful of  Pokeman cards.

"He said: "These are the ones I got, so don’t bring me these ones."

He also recalls a crazed mom who chased the Calgary Fire Department fire truck – upon which Dailley sat – as it carried away her baby.

The mom had passed her baby up to Santa so that a photographer could get a shot of Santa on the truck with a child.

But just as the camera started clicking, the truck started moving and making it’s way into the parade.

"The baby was bouncy and happy and oblivious to everything," said Dailley.

"But the mom was hysterical … she was screaming and yelling and probably thinking she was never was going to see her child again."

For retired firefighter Sawatzky, the hardest times being Santa were the many times he visited terminally ill children.

"What’s hard is the fact that many of these children weren’t going to be there next year," said Sawatzky.

He felt his heart break on countless occasions, he said.

What tugs at parade Santa Dailley’s heart is the memory of a little girl, about four years old, who took to his lap while her teenage mom waited impatiently and obviously bothered to be there.

When asked what she wanted for Christmas, the little girl answered sadly: "Nothing. I just want my mommy to be nice to me."

In Southcentre, William said he has had requests from children asking to have their moms come back, while others ask for new dads because the ones they have hurt them.

Nevada knows first-hand there are children fighting against all odds and the come to him for support.

About five years ago, Nevada visited one of them – a physically and mentally challenged child.

"He came running across the livingroom the best he could, wrapped his arms around my legs and asked: "Santa, why did you forget me?" said Nevada, who look up at the boy’s mom as she indicated she had fallen on hard times.

Then there was the little girl who asked for a happy home.

"I looked at her mom and you could see bruising in her face," said Nevada.

"I signaled for the mom to come over and sit on one knee, the daughter on the other and we had a little visit," he said.

"If nothing else, there’s a warm memory the mother and daughter can return to when things get tough."

In Chinook Centre, Shepherd has helped the family of a murder victim get through the holidays and has listened to small children ask Santa not to forget to put aside a present for their siblings up in heaven. "We give people some comfort and make them forget about the hard things in the world for a while," said Shepherd.

All the Santa's agree the red suit is a heavy one to wear.

For most, exhaustion sets in as soon as they get home, and their shins are bruised from the heels of excited children smacking against their legs as they jump up and down on their laps.

Their costumes are usually soiled, their legs bruised and their faces sore from the beard pulling.

And they all seem to have the same reason as to why they expose themselves to the full spectrum of humanity.

Most Santa's are hesitant to reveal their real names – they believe from the bottom of their hearts that Santa Claus is real.

They see him in the eyes and innocence of children and in the courage of those who, through no fault of their own, have to be strong in order to live the life they were dealt.

They believe in the magic of the season, even though they admit most people are too stressed or too busy to realize it’s there.

And they believe that by having "Christmas in their hearts," and by truly being Santa in their souls, they are sharing a little bit of the magical spirit the icon represents.

And they do it for the most basic of rewards.

It’s about hearing what they all yearn to hear: "I love you Santa."

With his boisterous laugh and striking resemblance to the jolly old man

himself, Victor Nevada has taught dozens of aspiring men how to be a

better Santa.

Now he’s going to try to work his magic on a slightly younger clientele.

Nevada, owner and headmaster of his Calgary-based Santa School, will

head to Hong Kong to teach five to 11 year old children how they too, can act

like Santa.

"They want me to teach these little boys and girls how to ho ho ho, how to move like Santa and how to put on a Santa costume," said Nevada.

He was approached by the manager of a Hong Kong mall that plans to run Santa training workshops for children from Dec. 23 to 26.

"It’s something new," said Nevada. "I’ve trained Santa's from all across North America, but I’ve never done it for children."

For $80 HKD, or roughly $13 Cdn, the elf-sized aspiring Santa's will also be trained in making gifts and answering letters to Santa.

Nevada anticipates he will be graduating nearly 1,000 students from the half-hour classes he will teach.

Asked if he foresees any challenges teaching his pre-pubescent students, Nevada said the hardest part will be teaching the voice and movements.

In order to achieve convincing "ho ho ho’s from the children, Nevada said he plans to get them laughing naturally.

"That’s part and parcel of being able to do a good ho ho ho – you have to internalize something that you found that was funny to really get a laugh."

Nevada, who has been operating his Santa School since 1997, hopes that holding Santa classes for young kids in malls will catch on in North America.

"I think something like is different, and it’s a real neat thing for the kids who participate," he said.

"I’ve never seen a little boy who wouldn’t absolutely love to be Santa."