Warning: If you are a child who believes in Santa Claus, we at Q suggest that you stop reading this article and immediately move on to the foreign policy editorials.
You know that Santa you saw at the mall this week, the one wearing the dingy red suit, black construction boots and strap-on white beard? Well, not only is that a fake St. Nick, but chances are also good he’s a hack as well.
At least that is the position of the Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santas (AORBS), a governing body founded in 1995 that stipulates that its members grow–rather than purchase–their chin warmers.
“We’re like a union, only with a great-sounding moniker,” says executive director Timothy Connaghan, MSC (Master Santa Claus), who has a face like a furry, white waterfall. “If we can help one child have one more year of innocence, that makes us happy.”
Santa Timothy, as he’s known, oversees 300 dues-paying members (and a database of more than 600 other Santa actors) via aorbsantas.com. Concurrently he operates realsantas.com, the North Pole of cyberspace that individuals and companies can use to hire Santas. And Connaghan’s RBS (Real Bearded Santa) degree entitles him to proctor the International University of Santa Claus, which instructs actors in the art of Christmas magic.
As with other professional groups, members use the AORBS to network with peers, keep informed about trends and share tips on jolliness.
“The purpose of the Amalgamated Order of Real Bearded Santas (AORBS) is to bring together those special, `real bearded’ gentlemen who carry on the history and traditions of Santa Claus,” reads the group’s mission statement. “To act as a catalyst and gathering place where members can share, educate, and perpetuate the spirit of love and giving. AORBS’ goal is to provide its members with the necessary resources that allow them to further define and improve their individual presentations of Santa Claus.”
In a nutshell: Fake beards are for fake Santas.
“I don’t play Santa, I am Santa,” declares George Collar, AORBS member who has been portraying the portly present producer since the early 1970s. The 74-year-old Homewood resident has a booming voice (conditioned weekly with his barbershop quartet group) and a quick laugh.
“Kids suspect the beard is fake, so if they want to swing on it, if they want to check it out, it’s no problem,” he said. “It’s more credible than a fake beard. I’ve been known to make skeptics believers.”
And with that he leaps into his sleigh (actually a 2001 Ford Explorer) and heads, perhaps, to a south suburban pizza joint where he makes frequent appearances to hear pepperoni-scented wishes for Barbie dolls and footballs.
About a dozen AORBS members hail from Illinois, each setting his own compensation rates, though Elmhurst’s Carol Johnson hints that members warrant higher paychecks than their smooth-faced peers, as her husband, Bernie, entertains youngsters at a Woodridge McDonald’s.
Santa Bernie has been an AORBS member for five years. In the summer, when his mane of white hair rests on his collar and that bushy white beard is dotted with perspiration, children stop him to place early gift wishes. He carries Santa business cards for such occasions.
The 72-year-old feels that his natural soupcatcher is less threatening to kids than the phony models. “With the fake beard the kids just see a mass of hair,” he says. “They can’t see your mouth, ears or face.”
The faces at this west suburban eatery light up when Santa Bernie enters with a burst of “ho ho hos” and clanging bells. His custom-made suit is spotless, his boots look perfect for sleigh riding, and–this being 2005–his massive gold belt buckle reading SANTA is totally blinging.
Little kids, along with some not-too-cool-to-be-excited-about-Santa teenagers, flock to the big guy as he takes a seat in a corner and unveils a massive key chain that, he describes, holds magical powers to widen chimneys. The kids endure the story, then jump at their chance to jump into his lap.
Santa Bernie’s beard tickles the cheek of Olivia Hilsendager as she whispers into his ear that she’d like a Polly Pocket salon set for Christmas. The 5-year-old Woodridge resident undoubtedly believes this is actually Santa (why wouldn’t he be at McDonald’s on a Monday night?), so the authenticity of his costume is moot.
But maybe next year, when Olivia has heard some unsettling rumors about St. Nick from classmates, the added authenticity of a real beard will keep her believing for one more season.
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q@tribune.com
