Charity’s Ghosts of Christmas Past

Ignoring the distractions all around him, Santa Bob--in full white beard and red suit--stood ringing his bell briskly on Fifth Avenue near Rockefeller Center’s towering Christmas tree.

Just up the street, a policeman had stopped a huge white stretch limousine. “If I have to ask you for your driver’s license again, I’ll arrest you. Merry Christmas!” he growled to the chauffeur.

Beggars, pushing tin and paper cups at people much too busy to stop, competed with Santa Bob on the sidewalk. A man talking fast into his cellular phone strode by in the crush while a group of high school students from Massachusetts posed for pictures with the luminous tree in the background.

With wonderment in her eyes, 4-year-old Katie Mennicken stopped with her mother in front of Santa Bob.

Katie said she wanted a Barbie doll for Christmas.

“Have you been good, very, very good?” Santa asked. “Have you eaten all your vegetables?”

Katie nodded vigorously.

“See you in a few days,” Santa Bob said. “Merry Christmas to you.”

For 95 years, New York’s sidewalk Santas have brought cheer and collected for charity. But across America, they are a fading breed, belonging more to a Currier and Ives holiday than to a Nintendo Christmas.

There are just more effective ways to bring in money, fund-raisers say.

Officials of the Volunteers of America, which sponsors the Santas, say the New York metropolitan area remains one of the few places, if not the only one, where sidewalk Santas appear.

And before they can hit the street donning the red suit, all Santas must attend Santa School at the charity’s New York headquarters.

Santa Maurice, a street-smart veteran, shows rookies how to pad their belly so it is nice and round. He leads them in a chorus of “Ho! Ho! Ho!”--which he says must come not only from the heart but deep from the stomach to achieve resonance.

Santas learn how to ring their bell (gentle motions at waist level) to avoid shoulder strain and carpal tunnel syndrome.

Santas study beard care. Drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream can turn a white beard into a big sticky mess. And breath control. Eating garlic can drive down revenues.

The Santas are lectured on chimney security. Each Santa is issued a chimney decorated with painted red bricks. It serves as a box for donations. Above all, Santas must never leave their chimneys unattended.

Shaking hands with children is encouraged. Picking up the tykes is not, unless a parent requests it. Santas must keep a wary eye on their beards. Sometimes, kids pull.

Santas learn to support each other emotionally. Sensitive Santas can become depressed when confronted by hecklers who accuse them of being phonies.

Santa Bob Williams, whom the Volunteers of America saved from alcoholism many years ago, just ignores these Grinches.

“I’ve been doing it for 13 years,” he said while posing on the street with a pair of tourists from Japan. “I just let it go in one ear and out the other. I’m out here to make the kids smile, bring joy to their hearts.”

Santa Maurice takes a different approach. He tells hecklers he is from the South Pole and they had better be careful. If that doesn’t work, he tells them he is from the South Bronx.

Individuality is encouraged. There are singing Santas, dancing Santas, even a robot Santa who stands on the sidewalk making mechanical motions while pointing to his chimney. When a child appears, he breaks out of his robotic routine.

All the Santas take a solemn graduation oath, which concludes, “to give each man and woman, girl and boy a hearty wish for Christmas joy.”

Sidewalk Santas earn $35 a day, plus 15% of anything over $100 in their chimneys. At the end of the season, they receive a bonus check. The most productive Santa also gets a prize. Last year, it was a TV. Santa Bob won.

The Volunteers of America, which operates programs ranging from homeless shelters to early-learning centers for children with developmental difficulties, is committed to keeping the Santas on the sidewalks.

Many New Yorkers are delighted.

Pat Craven, an assistant vice president of Citibank, still remembers traveling as a child in the 1960s from the Bronx with his parents to Manhattan to see the sidewalk Santas.

“We would walk along Fifth Avenue. We would see these street Santas every three blocks,” Craven said nostalgically. “Of course, you knew some would be impostors. But you knew one of those Santas would be real.”

Times correspondent Lisa Meyer contributed to this story.