Who the heck is Santa Clause ?

Ok. I understand this Saint Nicholes guy was a european nobleman who every christmas gave presents to the children of this town he owned and was lord of.

So how did we get from there  , to this coca cola swilling fat ugly beared old man selling everything from cars to sun tan lotion  , neither of which are likely to be of any use to someone puported to live at the north pole where there is little sun and no roads , and he already has a magical sleigh that can travel across the world in seconds.

When did this transformation happen , exactly ?

The answer is , slowly , and in gentle steps.

Jolly old Saint Nicholas lived in southwestern turkey in the 4th century. He was apparently a bishop of Myra and did a number of miracles involving sailers and children.


It should probably be noted that in the 4th century , a date had not yet been established for Christmas , or christ's birthday. Eventually it was decided to "celebrate it on dec 25" , a carefully phrased decision that hides the fact that they kept really terrible calenders at the time and no one knew when the heck the big JC had been born , that's just the day they're going to celebrate it on. However there were all these pagans they wanted to christianize  , and if they're at some big Christian festival on that date they can't be at their own pagen festival at the same time , can they ? So ..yeah , the decision of Dec 25 was made to help convert pagans , rather than out of any need for accuracy.

(actually, people picked up on the star that marked Christs birth  and , assuming it's true , there are at least three possible dates ranging from 4 years to 7 years BC . Which really shows how terrible they were at keeping time back then if they can't even get the year right. )

During a 16th century schism in the european church , the people of Holland started calling Saint Nicolos Sinter Klass, which of course , the americans corrupted into , you got it , Santa Claus.

in 1822 a biblical scholar called Clement Moore decided to write a poem , just for fun, for his children. He didn't really mean for it to get around , but it eventually was published anonymously . 

’T WAS the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that ST. NICHOLAS soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

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While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;

And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap,

Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

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Away to the window I flew like a flash,

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

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But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

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“Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

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When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,

With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

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As I drew in my head, and was turning around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,

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And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

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The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;

He had a broad face and a little round belly,

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

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And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

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And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

What a familiar looking story ?

Thomas Nast , a 19th century cartoonist , did a few cartoons of the fat guy , and added to the legend things like a workshop where toys were made and a book that seriously violated the privacy of the children of the world by detailing their names and whether they were naughty or nice.

in the 20th century the Coca Cola company is commonly cited as flooding America with ads of the fat man , usually drinking their product as he went about his business of inappropriately entering peoples houses and violating their privacy by keeping black lists that are quite frankly illegal in most countries.

After the Coca Cola company openned the flood gates, it just became good business to use this image painted in 1921 by Norman Rockwell to try and sell anything that wasn't nailed down.

To this day the Catholic church bemoans how the true message of christmas was lost in the noise of this Santa Claus figure , while conveniently forgetting that the very selection of dec 25 was used not to teach anyone accurate history , but to forward the cause of stamping out pagans. They generally ignore any suggestion that they are pimping out their faith for gain by pointing out that the local hardware store is pimping out a story they know to be false just to sell a few extra products. At least their version is based on truth , even if it got lost in the babble of 20 centuries of history.

So remember. Drink Coca Cola. It's Santa's favorite. Though I'm not sure what a 4th century Christian Saint from southern Turkey would have to say about that. 

And for all those nay sayers who still don't believe. I point to that unquestioned Bastion of Truth in Journalism, the new york times. 

"DEAR EDITOR: I am 8 years old.
"Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
"Papa says, 'If you see it in THE SUN it's so.'
"Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

"VIRGINIA O'HANLON.
"115 WEST NINETY-FIFTH STREET."

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.