Memories, Chapter 7 - Oh No, Not Santa!

Christmas, 1947

We lived above my family's bakery - I was just four years old, and my cousin, Danny was turning three in February. Here's a picture taken that fall - (only in Biloxi, Mississippi, would you have a winter picture with a palm tree backdrop...)


I can't explain the palm tree backdrop.


Danny was quite a character - always hyper, and easily upset (as you'll soon see).

He had flaming red curly hair. Here's a shot of him behind the bakery.



The family living room had large overstuffed furniture - finished in pre-WW2 synthetic velvet that felt more like sandpaper! Here's a shot of my grandfather, Uncle Junie, grandmother and me on the "big sofa" when I turned one!


Do you remember your first encounter with Santa?

Well, my first meeting was quite different than most...

THE SANTA CLAUS AFFAIR

To a four year-old, Christmas is one of those strange words invented by adults trying to keep control - as in "...Be good. Christmas is coming...” Even so, as children we sensed that something wonderful was about to happen. Then suddenly, on one cold December day, the old console radio that took up the entire corner of the living room disappeared. In its place was a decorated tree. Strangers dropped by for visits. Magically, decorations bloomed everywhere. The shop windows lining Howard Avenue shimmered in frosty silver with giant floating snowflakes and curled red ribbons cascading through boughs of greenery and holly.

In the bakery, all the display cases overflowed with pies, and cookies. Cakes lined the shelves— packed shoulder to shoulder - decorated with leaves of dark green icing and tiny red beads. There were coconut cakes, plain white cakes, chocolate cakes, and my favorite - devil's food with chocolate icing topped with a small candied cherry half on the top. (The cherry marked “devil's food inside!”)

The showcase windows sparkled with silver and green foil garlands while red cellophane wreaths hung magically with bubbling lights in the center. A life-sized cardboard display of someone called Santa Claus - holding a bottle of Coca Cola stood next to the delicatessen case. Yes, something big was about to happen - maybe even bigger than the day Annabelle, one of our waitresses, dropped a tray of glasses behind the lunch counter.

It was early evening - on Christmas Eve. Danny and I were playing on the floor in the living room. The room was crowded - our grandparents and parents nearby, speaking in low voices. Danny and I were allowed to unwrap "just one..." of the many presents stuffed under the tree - dropped off by friends and neighbors during the day.

I can see the scene so clearly - the enormous overstuffed sofa and arm chairs - covered in a dark green material - a simulated velvet that only vaguely resembled the real thing - the nap was so short and stiff that it felt like Dad's whisker stubble. The massive furniture with giant arm chairs that could hold THREE people — one seated and one on each of the broad arm rests. And when you snuggled onto one of the foot thick cushions, it sort of swallowed you up. The sofa was in the corner and stretched past the window - leaving a large space behind it.

Between the two chintz curtained windows a red brick mantel gas fireplace wafted heat waves into the crowded room. Inside the fireplace three remarkable grayish brown logs glowed brilliantly as blue-white hot flames danced and darted about their edges — remarkable because they never burned away! A squatty Douglas Fir tree cowered in the corner of the room -modestly decorated with blown glass ornaments - most from Dad's childhood - odd shapes of silver-frosted and colored glass that we "...could look at but not touch..." Sometimes - without warning, an ornament slid off the branches did a defiant half-bounce on the hardwood floor and disintegrated into a thousand pieces.

THUD ... Bounce... PING ... SHATTER! "Well, that's the end of that one!"- my Aunt would say.

Mom called out: "Yes, you two, stop running around - you're going to wreck the tree..." Then, for about 45 seconds we quietened down. We had to work the excitement out of our system.

"Just like a bunch of wild Indians...” my Grandpa muttered under his breath -all the time smiling at our antics -never really expecting to calm us down.

Globs of old fashioned lead foil tinsel covered the short quaking tree. Once beautifully decorated days before -each strand had been meticulously and thoughtfully placed -creating the illusion of real icicles. But with all the commotion and shaking in the room for the past week, strands rained steadily onto the floor. When no one was looking, Danny and I retrieved the stray icicles -sweeping them up into our tiny hands, wadding them into a tight bunch, and THROWING them as high as we could back onto the tree. After a few days of "redecorating", the icicles became tinsel clusters.

Oh, yes, there were the BIG electric lights - you know the ones the size of a bird's egg - but more pointed on the end. The translucent paint had chipped off some of the bulbs -and you could see the white hot filament inside -it cast a sharp rays of light through the branches making the grayish tinsel sparkle. Some of the speckled bulbs nearest the wall created shadows and shapes that looked like small animals and people that moved and danced when the tree shuddered.

Across the room was an old upright player piano that had seen its better days - now fallen victim to our relentless poundings - strings broken, keys frozen in up and down positions. A small manger scene was laid out on top of the piano on a white cloth. It was ALMOST out of our reach - that is unless you climbed on the piano bench and stood on the piano keyboard -something we weren't supposed to do -at least NOT while anyone was watching...

Even though we were only three years old we sensed that "Riss-mus" -- as Danny called it - was more than just a strange word, indeed it was something very special.

Suddenly, the room was quiet. We heard a knocking sound from the next room -Someone (or SOMETHING) was at the stairway door. Danny and I looked at each other - WHAT COULD IT BE?

Dad got up from his armchair - "I wonder WHO that is...?" He crossed through the small dining room and opened the door leading down the dark foreboding stairway to the silent bakery below. Danny and I moved cautiously towards the doorway - just far enough to sneak a glimpse at the mysterious visitor.

As the door creaked open, we heard a loud "Merry Christmas - Ho Ho HO!" I thought, "Who's Mary?"

By now Danny was more frightened than curious - his eyes bulged out – looking like a cartoon character. The stranger moved from the shadows into the room past my Dad. What a sight! It was a small creature dressed in a dull red suit, a wide black belt, a droopy pointed cap. It was wearing rain boots. It carried a bulging bag that looked just like a bakery flour sack. The suit, the hat, and the face were all trimmed with the same white fluff stuff Danny and I sometimes pulled from a secret hole in one of the sofa cushions - when no one was around.

"And who do I see here...?" the creature spoke, drawing toward the two of us. We stood - frozen to the spot. The red thing leaned down and moved closer. I saw Danny beginning to quiver - his face "scrooching- up" with that look of terror that preceded one of his famous "screams that would wake the dead..." -I knew what was coming next, and instinctively I shoved my finger into my ears.

"AhhhhhhhhhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" he yelled - his white pallor blooming into a crimson red.

He pivoted around -flailing his arms in the air -bolting back into the living room. He made a couple of passes through the crowded living room - nearly slipping on the throw rugs. He was trying to get out - but both bedroom doors were closed! He knew he was trapped! He circled around again -now back to the sofa, and with one super-boy-style leap, he sprang from the floor to the seat of the sofa, and without pausing, he DOVE head-first over the back -landing on the floor behind with a dull thud.

"Oh my God, now he's broken his neck," I heard Aunt Ellie say. Everyone crowded around the sofa - pulling it away from the corner. The room was quiet - except for the low sobbing coming from behind the sofa. Uncle Ralph reached for Danny - but just touching him intensified the screams. Finally, Uncle Ralph convinced him to leave his hiding place, but Danny would have no part of the HO-HO creature - each attempt to re-introduce the two ended in more screaming fits. After a few minutes of this, everyone agreed it was probably best if Santa went on his way - and he left quietly the same way he arrived.

The stair door was shut and bolted. It took a while, but eventually Danny calmed down. The scene slowly returned normal as we began tearing into the wrapped boxes left behind by the unwelcomed visitor.

Years later, I found out that the part of the unwelcome Santa was played by my Aunt Leona - who lived down the street -actually she was my Grandmother's cousin. Needless to say, there was never another visit from Mr. -er, MRS. Santa again!

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