special collections, university of memphis libraries
When I was a little Vance, I had no doubt that Santa Claus really existed. After all, who else was putting all those presents under the tree in the parlor of the Lauderdale Mansion?
Now, I wasn't completely stupid. There were indeed certain parts of this magical event that puzzled me. I certainly had never seen a flying reindeer at the Memphis Zoo — or any other place, come to think of it.
And I was a bit confused when, on those rare adventures when the Lauderdales ventured out in public, I encountered Santas in all shapes and sizes in various department stores, and even standing on street corners, clanging a handbell and inviting passersby to drop coins into a little black kettle. My parents' explanation that these were just Santa's "helpers" put my mind at ease, but still ... something seemed a bit odd about the whole thing.
But, if he didn't exist, then what was I to make of the news stations, whose weathermen and -women took the time to show me — right there on television! —how their infallible radar systems were, as Christmas approached, tracking Santa's sleigh as it made its deliberate journey from the North Pole all the way to Memphis, Tennessee. And more specifically, I hoped, to the main chimney of the Lauderdale mansion.
Then there was that time when my parents drove me all the way to East Memphis, to a brand-new shopping center called Eastgate. There, joined by hundreds (if not thousands) of other nervous children, we waited and watched the sky, and finally it appeared! A helicopter was bringing Santa Claus himself to our city! It landed in the Eastgate parking lot, and the jolly old elf hopped out, looking none the worse for wear after such a long journey in an open helicopter (it was one of those "bubble" kind without even any doors).
Still, since I couldn't see him up-close because of all the other children, how could I be certain this was THE Santa Claus?
Well, what clinched it for me was the day my mother, rest her soul, switched on the Zenith radio set and turned the dial to WHBQ where — lo and behold — Santa Claus himself was talking to Memphis boys and girls. In fact, he was actually reading the lists they had mailed to the North Pole, and telling Bobby and Susie and James and so many others that, yes indeed, they were going to get an Erector Set, or microscope, or bicycle or whatever they wanted for Christmas. I listened for hours, waiting to hear my own letter read out over the air, but he never did — probably because it was too long, I guess.
Years later, looking through old files in the Special Collections Department at the University of Memphis Libraries, I came across this photograph — obviously snapped in the WHBQ studio of the Santa Claus I had heard all those years ago. Now, by this time, I had indeed became a little suspicious of the whole thing, but what was I to make of this actual photographic proof?
At first, I scoffed at the image. I mean, good grief — this was a radio show, so why did the actor have to wear a costume if nobody could even see him?
And then it dawned on me. That was no "costume" and this was no "actor." This was Santa Claus himself, who had come all the way to Memphis — either by reindeer or helicopter, it didn't matter — to talk to children on WHBQ radio.
And it that wasn't enough proof of the existence of Santa, for all the girls and boys who tuned in, then I just don't know what else to tell you.
