Being Santa Claus

Young Chang

Little kids play eye tag with John Matthews even on sweltering summer

days.

They give him the once over and hold a steady glance as if wondering

why the 70-year-old man in street clothes reminds them of someone

magical.

It’s the beard, Matthews says. The natural cloud of long, white curls

that puffs down to his upper chest and begins above his mouth with a

handlebar mustache.

The sharp ones don’t need a red suit to remember Santa Claus in the

summer.

They see the beard and the twinkling wise eyes and stare with such awe

that sometimes Matthews will kneel down and whisper, “This is just

between you and I. Have you made your list yet?”

They’ll look at Matthews and communicate belief, whether it’s winter

or summer or spring.

This is why the retired police officer decided to get into a Santa

suit and sit children on his lap for hours at a time at Fashion Island.

He calls himself “The Man” and “The Real Guy.”

His job, or his privilege as he considers it, is to convince little

children that during his busiest season of the year, Santa found time to

drop in on Newport Beach and take pictures with those who believe.

“I think he’s surprised that he could play this role so convincingly

and enjoy it so much,” said wife Carol Matthews. “He says himself, it’s

amazing, the feeling he gets, when the children look at him and say

‘Santa.”’

SECRET SANTA

A jacket collar veiling the lower half of his face, Matthews darts

through Fashion Island’s crowd of parents and kids and strollers to start

his shift.

A different Santa works earlier in the day. To get to his dressing

room -- a.k.a. the employees-only men’s restroom -- Matthews needs to

walk by the other Santa first.

So he goes incognito. The confusion -- the truth -- would be

devastating for kids who think there’s only one Santa in the house.

But at 6-foot-6, 300 pounds, a suit bag draped over his right arm and

a sports bag hanging on his left, he looks endearingly mischievous as a

pair of warm, round eyes peer out from above the collar.

He makes it to the dressing room unseen.

It is here that John Matthews, dressed in a beige leisure jacket, red

and green plaid shirt, blue jeans and spotless white Nikes, morphs into

Kris Kringle.

His props consist of a Santa jacket, Santa pants, big heavy black

boots with bells on the rim, a 5-inch-wide black belt, a Santa hat with a

mini-wreath on the white fur border, white gloves, white sleeves and a

makeup bag including concealer and blush.

Matthews belongs to the Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santa

Clauses, which means his Santa bag of props doesn’t include a fake beard.

The only think fake about Matthews’ chin is that every few months, he

gets the salt and pepper strands bleached at the hairdresser. Every

morning, Carol Matthews curls it patiently at their Fullerton home.

She curls the hair on his head, too.

“I sleep with pin curlers, can you believe that?” John Matthews said.

“Some of the guys are fortunate enough to have naturally curly hair. I’m

not one of them.”

He grew the beard about three years ago, something he never could have

done before retiring in 1986 from 29 years of service with the South Gate

Police Department. He was surprised to find that it grew “nice and full”

-- a genetic blessing, he says. Around Christmastime, people would notice

and comment and adults would shout out things about wanting a new Lexus.

Playing Santa hadn’t occurred to him yet. But at a private Christmas

party hosted by a friend last year, he met Mike Sullivan, a professional

Santa. The two started talking about beards. Sullivan invited Matthews to

a luncheon of the Amalgamated Order.

He met 60 Santas there. They encouraged him to try the part and a few

passed on leads. One was from the Penny Saver: Fashion Island’s Santa

House was looking for a Santa.

On Nov. 17, after Carol Matthews sewed him three Santa suits -- two

velour, one velvet -- Matthews sat in the chair for the very first time,

laughed the ho-ho-ho and made children believe.

Other Santas had told him, “Oh don’t worry about it, John. After the

first 10 kids, you’ll be hooked,” said Matthews, a father to five and

grandfather to six. “It took three kids and I was hooked.”

METAMORPHOSIS

He starts from the bottom and works his way up.

He takes off his sneakers and black socks, switches them instead for a

pair of immaculate white socks.

He trades in his jeans for baggy red velour pants with red suspenders

and pulls the straps over his thin white undershirt.

Half-dressed, he is ready to do his makeup. Matthews lightens his dark

under-eyes with concealer and sweeps blush across his cheeks for a warm,

fireside flush.

Then, he pulls on his size-15 boots, borders them with furry white

boot toppers that jingle with little bells and, finally, pulls on his

coat.

The coat is rimmed with white fur on the collar, down the middle, and

along the bottom hem. A thick black belt interrupts the midsection with a

brassy square buckle.

His Santa hat comes next, which erupts joyfully from a head of curled

white hair.

But as Matthews reaches for his glasses, he realizes he has forgotten

something crucial -- the plain white sleeves.

He takes off the jacket and pulls out a pair of leg warmer-resembling

sleeves from his bag.

“They don’t like to see skin showing other than on the face,” Matthews

said. “Don’t want the kids seeing scars or tattoos.”

The sleeves go on, the jacket slides back on, and the glasses --

reading glasses from Sav-On that have a light gold rim -- get perched on

the nose.

He then puts on white gloves, which are spotless. His bag contains a

few extra pairs -- it’s his belief that a man’s gloves should always be

clean -- and he shoves an extra pair in his pocket too.

Lastly, he grabs a black leather strap with bells to shake as he walks

and a white lap blanket that he explains is “in case you get a wet one.”

But he can’t go out until Santa’s helpers enter the bathroom to drop

off the earlier-shift Santa. It’s imperative that only one Santa be

roaming the grounds at any one time. Matthews patiently waits for the

helpers to escort him for “The Switch.”

After all, he, too, believed in Santa as a young boy in Grand Rapids,

Mich.

His was an excellent childhood, Matthews said. Summers were spent in a

cottage by the lake and winters were blanketed with fresh snow that

reflected a blue at night from the the full moon overhead.

“It was like a Christmas card,” Matthews said of the memory.

THE SANTA CODE

There are some rules to his trade -- rules that have as much to do

with ethics and morals as they do with having fun.

He asks the kids wholesome questions. Questions about school and

helping parents and cleaning the room.

“Usually what stumps them is keeping their room clean,” Matthews said.

He asks kids what they want for Christmas but never promises anything.

Instead, he offers “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

He always tries to keep his hands in view.

He always sits children with both legs to one side, so they’re never

straddling his leg.

He listens to the more sorrowful requests -- one girl recently told

him that for Christmas, she’d like a house because her mom and she were

living with their grandparents -- and promises that things will be OK.

“You don’t need a background check to do this, but I almost think

there ought to be,” Matthews said.

For men who wear their Santa beards year-round, Matthews says the

moral responsibility is even greater.

“Because children are always gonna wonder, is it or isn’t it? You

can’t be stumbling around drunk,” said Matthews, who plans on writing the

ethics chapter for a friend’s second edition of a book titled “Becoming

Santa Claus.”

Carol Matthews agrees that playing Santa is more than dressing up.

“It is a responsibility when they look at you in belief,” she said.

“He does feel that responsibility.”

He’s got his story straight, too.

When asked by children (or adults, for that matter), where Santa’s

reindeer are, Matthews uses the Big Bear line.

Prancer, Dancer, Cupid and the rest of the crew hang out in Big Bear,

the explanation goes, because that’s where everyone landed after

journeying from the North Pole. Mrs. Claus feeds the reindeer all day,

and when Matthews’ shift ends, it’s because he has to go to Big Bear and

help feed the reindeer.

“I get asked which is my favorite,” he said. “I’ll say I like Dancer,

but the other day Dancer was dancing and he stepped on my foot.”

He had feared, at first, kids would outsmart him with difficult or

bizarre questions. But none have been too tricky so far. For the ones who

won’t tread closer than three feet of him -- Matthews suspects it’s out

of awe -- he’ll start with a “gimme a high-five!”

He’s prepared his exit line too.

When Christmas Eve arrives and his last shift draws to a close,

Matthews will convincingly say:

“I gotta make my deliveries.”

-- Young Chang writes features. She may be reached at (949) 574-4268

or by e-mail at o7 [email protected] .