Center Stage with Santa

By Teresa Rochester

Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus -- and his name is Bob.

Robert Anderson to be exact. And every year for the past five years, he flies in, not from the snowy depths of the North Pole, but from nearly equally cold Wisconsin, to hear the Christmas wishes of little - and not so little - California boys and girls.

This year Anderson's flight, not sleigh ride, touched down in Los Angeles on Thanksgiving day. Within hours he had taken up residence as jolly old St. Nick in Santa Monica Place. In four weeks Anderson has had upwards of 14,000 visitors.

"I go where they send me," said Anderson of his employer, New Jersey-based Cherry Hill Photo, which supplies Santas and Easter Bunnies to malls across the country.

At 10:30 a.m. two days before Christmas, the mall's center court was jumping. A line for a coveted last-minute visit with Santa snaked past green velvet ropes lining the path to the big guy's lap.

Parents patted down cow licks, straightened dresses and muttered, "Oh, look honey, is that Santa?" as Anderson - who suspiciously looks like the real deal -- and his "helpers," Manager Anthony Harris and Nami Nishiyama, kept the line moving, calmed children and snapped pictures.

"We're helpers but some people think we're elves," said Nishiyama. To be confused for an elf is an odd notion since helpers don't wear green tights or pointy-toed slippers or even green hats.

On his throne, lined with green velvet -- which had molded to his figure over his 10-hour-a-day, seven-days-a-week stint - Anderson sat calmly as a little red-headed boy in tears tried his best to escape from his lap.

Harris, a professional performer with amazing patience, started to sing the Barney theme song to calm the boy down just long enough to snap a picture.

"I love you, you love me. We're a great big family," Harris crooned, quickly grabbing for a blue squeaky toy to use as back up.

"Honey, don't pick your nose," the boy's mother said, as his grandfather video taped the ordeal. As the boy's cries began to taper off, Harris took the picture. After three more shots the parents left happy.

The little boy's plight wasn't unusual. Infants and toddlers who looked serene and content exploded in tears upon contact with Santa. The sobbing children could only be calmed by being returned to their mother's arms. The trick, Anderson said, is to snap the picture the minute the child sits down.

While parents are offered a chance to come back later for a photo with Santa, most look at the line they just waited in and beg, plead and bribe their children into smiling for the camera.

"There aren't any bad kids," said Anderson. "But have I found parents that need to be taken out behind the wood shed? Yes."

One girl, Grace, had brought Santa a hand-made card, which among other things asked for "Blue's Clue's" Playdoh, in a Christmas theme gift bag. "Can we talk to Santa before we take the picture," her mom asked.

Anderson said that when children bring him cards and letters he reads them and puts them away. Where he puts them he didn't say.

As a responsible Santa, Anderson said he never promises a gift. He will, however, tell a parent what a child has asked for if they ask - though most don't.

"Santa never promises little live animals," said Anderson. "I tell them I can't take them with me in the sleigh because it's too cold."

There are also times that Anderson hears heart-wrenching wishes that not even Santa can grant. Anderson said that he sometimes tells children to pray.

"I had a little boy tell me his father was an alcoholic and I had a little girl tell me her mother had died of cancer," he said. "I speak with them and give them a sense of attention that they love."

Anderson's favorite visitors are physically and mentally disabled children. "They thrive on love and that's all I can give them," he said.

Not all of Santa's visitors are children. Anderson said one visitor was a young model who promptly climbed on his lap and draped her leg across the arm of his chair.

"You can always see my hands, so there's never any issue with that," said Anderson, 68, a retired Protestant pastor.

Another visitor was a man in his thirties who told Anderson that he was going to sit on his lap, whisper in his ear and that Anderson was to act surprised. The man used the photograph for his Christmas cards.

A middle age man brought his wheelchair-bound mother for a picture.

"Senior citizens come and watch the kids. They want to see the kids. It goes back to what I said earlier about having the wonderment of a child," said Anderson, over lunch in a warehouse-like space in the mall, which serves as his dressing and break room.

"We need to put ourselves into being a child," said Anderson, imparting Santa-like advice. "Or else we take ourselves much too seriously."