By Norman M. Covert

The countdown is on ‘til Christmas Eve. Santa Claus is scheduled next week to bring toys and all manner of wondrous gifts to good little boys and girls in a “whishing” mission, borne in his reindeer-powered sleigh.

One wonders if this is fantasy.  However, I knew the pilot light of Christmas still flickered inside me when my 1948 Lionel Steam Locomotive finally got going under our tree Sunday night. I can spend hours watching it chug around the track.

We cherish the private hope that Santa Claus (nee, St. Nicholas, Father Christmas) can achieve his improbable task Monday night by spreading tidings of great joy and peace on earth from his sack of goodies.

Bah, humbug to the Ebenezer Scrooges. We are beset again this season by the political “ins,” who are dazzled by their own magnificence and who are wont to replace our closely held beliefs with their form of blasphemy.

I’m stubborn and believe that we can turn back the assault on all we hold dear. We can recover the magic of the Advent season. The story and celebration of Christ’s birth in a stable in Bethlehem, Judea, endures despite centuries of naysayers.

Santa Claus is one of those “necessaries” like Christmas trees, evergreen wreaths and the shoes full of candy in the name of legendary Father Christmas. We may view him through the eyes of 19th century editorial cartoonist Thomas Nast or through the lifelike magazine covers drawn by the late artist Norman Rockwell.

There also is the marketing image which grew from Coca-Cola’s first use of Santa in the 1920s. In 1931 Archie Lee of D’Arcy Advertising Agency finessed the image based on the Clement Clark Moore description. Coca-Cola’s Santa became a part of Christmas imaging as much as any depiction.

Thomas Nast created the outsized character of St. Nicholas clad in fur, biting his long-stemmed pipe and clutching dolls and other toys. His broad grin topping a visage first described in Moore’s enduring 1822 narrative, “A Visit From St. Nicholas.”

Moore’s narrative said St. Nicholas was dressed in fur, had twinkling eyes, dimples, cheeks like roses, a nose like a cherry; he had a “droll little mouth” and held a pipe in his teeth.

He had a broad face and round belly, Moore continued. He was chubby and plump, his clothes tarnished from the ashes and soot of the fireplace. He had a bundle of toys flung over his shoulder.

A storied editorial cartoonist, Nast was beset by the chaos of the War Between the States in 1862 when he first drew St. Nicholas out of the legend as our Christmas benefactor. There is little doubt Mr. Nast sought to bring some joy out of the horror of that national calamity.

Fond memories arose a couple weeks ago when the unique radio voice of Kemosabe Joe (Johnson) appeared on our local radio station’s annual “Christmas Cash for Kids” appeal.

Kemosabe Joe, now with WTDK-FM, (Salisbury, Md.), brought his talent and reputation to Frederick, MD, where he didn’t disappoint the legion of “Rock” music listeners. He was purveyor of broadcast excellence at the former Z104-FM, now a simulcast station with all-news WTOP-AM, Washington, D. C.

He was a mentor, too. He suggested in 1980 that we do a weekly, pre-recorded information segment on what was happening at the U.S. Army’s Fort Detrick military installation. I was chief of public affairs and sought any opportunity to communicate with citizens.

Kemosabe then suggested we might partner in putting together a “Santa Tracking Report” to be broadcast on Christmas Eve. The North American Air Defense Command (NORAD) once cooperated in a version of tracking Santa and other radio and television outlets tried it through their weather forecast teams.

I bought Kemo’s idea. I recalled legendary radio and motion picture entrepreneur Stan Freberg. He preached the magic of radio and the images which could be generated in the mind of listeners.

I loved hearing Freberg drain Lake Michigan; fill it with hot chocolate; top it with whipped cream; and have the Canadian Air Force drop a huge maraschino cherry on top, while 25,000 extras cheered. “Let’s see them do that on television,” he taunted.

With the Fort Detrick and East Coast Telecommunications Center commanders’ blessings we put together actualities using the operations center of the international defense satellite facility. We recorded 13 reports to be aired each hour.

Kemo did his broadcast panel finessing and the reports became a regular Christmas Eve feature the next few years with some modifications. After the demise of Z104 we cooperated one year the local WFMD-AM and FM.

The magic of Christmas and children’s expectations struck me that first year when my daughters heard the reports. They were thrilled to hear Santa had been sighted in the “Catoctin corridor” near Camp David by a helicopter pilot. They recognized the on-scene reporter’s voice, but never let on they knew it was “Dad.”

I was not alone as a child having visions of sugar plums dancing in my head. Our tree went up Christmas Eve with Dad spending an interminable amount of time trying to get all the red and green bulbs working. It was wired in “series” in which one bad bulb darkened the entire line. Eventually he got the lights working and on the tree.

Soon after, we placed our stockings on the cardboard fireplace and headed off to bed. It was exciting; Santa Claus would finish the decorating and morning would arrive as proof of our faith.

You are encouraged to make an effort to set aside frustrations of the times and recapture, at least for a brief period, that innocent, magical time when you put out the cookies for Santa and the carrots for Rudolph.

Aw, go ahead, you know you want to do it. 

Here’s wishing you visions of sugarplums, the magic of Santa and the joy of Christ’s birth.—©2012 Norman M. Covert

This appears in its original form at www.thetentacle.com and is use with permission of the author and The Octopus, LLC.

nmcovert@thecovertletter.com or nmcovert77@aol.com