A tale of three Santas
“Wherever I go, I’m recognised,” says Fred Overty. “It’s the beard.
“Last year I was in Dublin Airport at the same time as the Irish rugby team. There was a kerfuffle in the airport. I said ‘What’s going on?’ and the stewardess said, ‘They’ve seen you. One half thinks you’re Santa, and the other half thinks you’re ZZ Top!’”
After a frantic spell signing T-shirts, it wasn’t the rugby team who had to be escorted to safety. “The stewardess said ‘Follow me!’, and she took me through this door so that we could wait until it all calmed down,” Fred remembers. “I think they were off to play England or something.”
Phew. To any other man of a certain age, that kind of celebrity status might sound a bit taxing. But this isn’t just any other man of a certain age. This is Killarney’s official Santa Claus, a character Kerry folk have been cheering, greeting and whispering wishes to for almost 20 years.
“I can go into Tesco in July, and even the young ones in pushchairs will point to Santa,” he chuckles. “Yesterday, I was in the car park in town, and as a car was leaving, a little boy opened the window at the back and he shouted: ‘Santa, don’t forget my bike!’ Mrs Claus and I get all of that.”
Fred and his wife Beryl (the aforementioned Mrs Claus) have a busy schedule this Christmas, beginning with the launch of Killarney’s Christmas Festival this weekend. Santa will arrive in the town by sleigh and head for his secret village in the Old Market Lane off Glebe Car Park.
He takes his role seriously, too. Fred has two Santa suits — one “with a bit of gold braid on it” for encounters with the press, and another working suit, “which could get a bit of dirt on it coming down the chimney.” Wherever he goes, he also carries a compass to navigate the skies, a magic whistle to send any troublesome cats and dogs to sleep, and a big, black key.
“I used to be property manager of a medieval priory outside Brighton,” he explains. “It was built in 1120. It’s a bit like Muckross Abbey, and it was surrounded by a moat. This was the key to the front gate… it’s a huge thing; it’s black and about 12 inches long. The children all wonder is it the key to the toy warehouse. I say whatever you do, don’t let me leave here without it!”
How long has he been Santa? “800 years,” is the matter-of-fact reply. Despite living for centuries, however, Fred has no trouble recalling his own boyhood memories of Santa Claus.
“My grandmother would sit beside the fire and we would write out our lists, with difficulty spelling, and she would put them up the chimney. We had a huge fire, with big logs and kettles boiling all the time, and if we questioned anything about it — like how Santa could get down the chimney — she said she would leave the door ajar, just in case…”
Times may be different today, he says, but children are intuitive about the economic situation. “They talk sense,” he says. Whereas in recent years, Santa could have expected all sorts of requests for iPods and Wii’s and so on, now Fred says the wishes tend to be for one gift their hearts are set on. Board games are back, he reveals. And bikes are as big a feature as ever. When Killarney switches its Christmas lights on this weekend, Fred will be borne through the town on a sleigh alongside 600 schoolchildren. It’s no bother to him, mind you — this Santa has previously paraded through Killarney in a vintage steamroller and a 1950s Buick.
Weather won’t thwart them, either. Last year, when Fred and Beryl got stranded in the ice and snow, they took to the phones, calling the little boys and girls they were due to visit.
“We said we were flying high above them,” he says. “And they were looking out to see us!”
“Mrs Claus and I just let things happen. I remember once arriving by jarvey car into the Malton. I sat by the fire in the bar, and within a couple of minutes there must have been 14 or 15 kids around me. I told them I was tired, and one of them took my boots off.
“’You must be the real Santa,’ he said. ‘Because you’ve got a hole in your sock.’
“The barman poured me a pint of Guinness, and a little girl started telling stories. It was so natural. Nothing was rehearsed. Some of the things children get up to are unbelievable…”
After 800 years, he should know. Fred has had babies tugging his beard (“it’s about 14 inches”), fended off awkward questions about the real Santa (“I just say, ask Mrs Claus!”), and of course, given plenty of dig-outs to parents under pressure in the run-up to Christmas.
“I always say I must have tidy bedrooms. I can’t have any school equipment or rubbers or pencils left lying around, because I go flying. Nothing under the bed either! The candles must be out, and we can’t have trimmings near the fireplace.”
What does he love most about his role? “It’s the joy,” he says simply. “You never know what’s going to happen. You can’t pre-plan. You just go with it.”
Fred Overty can be visited in his grotto in Eddie Rocket’s (7 New Street; 064 6639463) on December 8, 10, 11, 17, and 18. For more details on Christmas in Killarney, see christmasinkillarney.com.
WE ALL have the photo — traumatised, tear-filled toddler, propped on mum’s knee, staring frantically at the strange, hairy man in the red suit.
Irish department stores make the Santa experience a daunting one for the very young. Child queues for an hour before being ushered into the ‘grotto’ — a dark and eerie cavern, barely illuminated by a dim, red glow. In the centre sits an overweight man, arms outstretched, manic ho-ho-ho at the ready. No wonder we all bawled. My daughter Mia was 18 months old when she first saw Santa. She cried. Hysterically. I have the picture to prove it. A year later, and still a nervous toddler, it should have been the same story, the same photo.
Instead, in our Santa picture for 2007, she sits contentedly on my knee. All courtesy of the Father Christmas experience, UK-style. That year was the first of our annual trips to the Christmas grotto at Harrods in London. The English have Santa sussed. It’s free. Just book online a couple of months in advance. There’s no queuing — you choose your appointment time. The maximum wait is 15 minutes — and there are panto-eque characters to distract the kids. Crucially, it’s bright and well-lit — not a single red light in sight.
Harrods themes its Christmas grotto for the 30,000 children it accommodates — this time it’s the turn of the Gingerbread House. Mia’s favourite was The Wizard of Oz. Like Dorothy, she followed the yellow brick road to Santa’s door. There, the elves greeted her, knocked and announced the arrival of ‘Princess Mia’.
The most jovial Santa I’ve encountered sat on a throne in the centre of the bright room, hard-bound book in hand — his ‘naughty or nice’ list. Smiling, welcoming and not one bit daunting — how Santa Claus should be.
Instantly at ease, Mia sat on his knee, told him what she wanted for Christmas, and watched, enchanted, as he released his invisible robin from his sleeve — complete with tweeting sound effect — ready to follow her home and report back on whether she was naughty or nice. We left with a book — The Wizard of Oz, of course — a chocolate coin made in the North Pole and a badge. The only payment was for the optional photo. We visited three years in a row, each trip more memorable than the last.
The snow cancelled last year’s visit — the planes were grounded. This year is also on ice, thanks to the arrival of a new baby sister for Mia. But 2012 will bring another long overdue festive weekend in London and a new photo to add to the family album. Baby Lana will be 18 months old then and already I know she’ll be smiling for the Father Christmas at Harrods.
Santa’s grotto at Harrods is open until Christmas Eve. The tickets are free, but a £10 administration charge will be recredited back onto a Harrods Rewards account; www.harrods.com.
* Vickie Maye
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