These Santas go for authenticity — real beards and all
Santa is among us.
About 400 of “him” nationwide work, shop, audition for commercials and generally go about their jolly lives waiting for the Christmas season with all the anticipation of a first-grader.
They are members of the Fraternal Order of Real Bearded Santas. They call themselves professionals. They have a code of conduct. They meet every month and hold seminars on how to be better at what they do.
Starting with the real beards, the type kids can pull on but can’t pull off the big guy’s chin, it’s all about authenticity, in appearance and demeanor.
This includes understanding Santa’s potential to do good, said Greg Ferguson, president of the Orange County chapter of FORBS. At a store. At an office party. Or wherever Santa happens to meet people.
Even between their paid gigs, they take their role seriously.
“My wife and I went to a James Taylor concert and I took pictures for 20 minutes,” Ferguson said of his posing with people drawn to him because of his appearance.
That kind of thing happens a lot, he says. He keeps a stockpile of candy canes and hands them out wherever he goes.
He is dedicated not simply to listening to children’s Christmas lists, but to spreading goodwill and the Christmas spirit year-round.
It’s a credo they all take very seriously.
“We come from everywhere,” Ferguson said of the organization’s members. “All walks of life. One is a drug counselor, another is a bus driver, or a delivery guy. It’s unbelievable the brotherhood. Everybody works together.”
Formed by a group of very Kris Kringle-looking fellows at a luncheon in 1994 at La Mirada’s North Woods Inn, the comfort food restaurant with its perpetually snow-covered log cabin facade, FORBS set forth to provide not only a brotherhood, but a regular job board for those who embrace the Santa lifestyle.
From the typical Santa gigs to movie and TV auditions, the members look out for each other.
The Orange County chapter accepts donations and raises money for Breast Cancer Angels through various events. Each year, FORBS gives families struggling with the financial effects of the disease a Christmas they couldn’t otherwise afford.
Members, who range in age from 30s to 80s, typically wear red or football-type jerseys with the number 25 on it, as in Dec. 25. And a FORBS member probably won’t tell you he “plays Santa.” He’s likely to say with a grin, “I am Santa.”
To avoid any potential confusion at Christmas time, FORBS members will forgo the look if they go to a mall. The Santa working there should be the only one kids see.
The organization is hypervigilant about protecting the Santa brand in today’s litigious world, and requires members to have liability insurance and abide by one top rule: If you’re wearing the suit and are around children, keep both white-gloved hands where they can be seen at all times.
The outfit itself is an object of passion for members. At $500 to $600, a tailored velvet and satin suit will separate the professionals from the amateurs, Ferguson says. Add in the extras, like pocket watches, key chains and belt buckles, and veteran Santas can invest as much as $10,000 in their gear.
Kids can spot a phony a mile away, apparently.
The requisite beard is also a point of pride. Santa seminars include beard bleaching. Members — especially the chapter’s youngest — often entrust their beards to hair salons to get that perfect platinum look.
The craft of listening to kids is being comfortable with them first, something Ferguson, grandfather of 11, understands quite well. Giving them your complete attention is next.
“Any kid will tell Santa almost anything if you break down their barriers,” he says.
Another key is not to promise anything. Kids often want pets and the parents don’t. Or cellphones or iPads. Ferguson tells them, “I’ll have to check with the elves and see if we have any in stock.”
But the requests can sometimes turn heartbreaking, like when kids ask to have their parents get back together or return from foreign battlefields.
While the power of Santa has its limitations, it shouldn’t be underestimated either.
“I was at a restaurant and the kids a few booths over were misbehaving, and the parents pointed to me,” Ferguson said. “The kids straightened out.”
Ferguson, whose days in the Santa suit stretch back 37 years, can’t deny it.
“There is some magic to it,” he said. “When you put on a nice suit, you immediately go into character.”