The Secret Santa Transcript (Scotland: A Scottish History Podcast)
Note: Scotland is produced and designed to be heard, not read. We encourage you, if you are able, to listen to the audio, which provides insight which is significantly different to how it appears on the page. Transcripts are generated from the original scripts of the episodes. They may be slightly different to the corresponding audio and may contain errors.
Scotland - A Scottish History Podcast
Episode 15 - The Secret Santa
MICHAEL PARK: It is 1890. Your hand feels like it is caught in a vice as your mother pulls you through the throng of people clustered round the door of The Boston Store, a department store in downtown Brockton, Massachusetts. Being pulled along through oohs and ahhs, past wide-eyed kids not much older than you, past toys and games which look like the ones you have at home but just... better, y’know?
She said she had a special surprise for you but she wasn’t patient while you pulled on your best shoes and buttoned up your best coat. She seemed irritated - the kind of irritated that she only seemed when she thought you were going to be late for church, or a doctor’s appointment or worse... school.
She’s still pulling you through this seemingly never-ending crowd. Somewhere in the distance you can hear a little choir singing carols. You’ve been told to stop asking how many sleeps till Christmas.
Then you see it. The queue.
From Be Quiet Media, this is Scotland, a podcast about history and the places we made it. I’m Michael Park.
It is still 1890 but you’ve stood in this queue for so long, your little legs becoming more and more tired with every passing second that it might as well be 1990.
Then you see him.
Then that aching feeling creeps out of your legs and turns to electricity on its way up your spine until it reaches the top of your head and you just know that ma won’t be happy if you let out the squeal of excitement that is threatening to burst past your lips so you swallow it [beat] because nothing - [whisper] nothing - is going to take this away from you.
There, standing in front of you, not more than twenty feet away... it’s him. You can feel your breath shortening and your entire body shaking from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.
The big man. Kris Kringle. Jolly St Nick. Father Christmas. Santa Claus.
He’s here. Your brain doesn’t have time to think about how excited it is because within seconds he’s kneeling in front of you, his ruddy red cheeks are raised in the widest smile you’ve ever seen and you’re not sure what’s brighter, his gleaming white teeth or his dazzling snowy beard.
He asks if you’ve been good. You don’t remember what you said but you remember your mother nudging you - maybe you’re not saying anything. You think you maybe muttered ‘Sannnnntaaaaaa’.
He laughs. No, he doesn’t laugh. He chuckles that booming ‘ho ho ho’ and your eyes widen with joy because he’s SANTA CLAUS!
He asks you what you want for Christmas. All you want is for this moment to never end.
The man in the department store in downtown Brockton wasn’t Santa Claus. Of course he wasn’t. Santa’s too busy with the important business of making toys to make an appearance at a department store in downtown Brockton, Massachusetts.
Now, in 2019, Santa sends out a special message to people all over the world who step in to appear for him in stores, malls, community centres... anywhere there are little kids. He sprinkles them all with magic that allows them to embody his Christmas spirit and makes them all Santa for a day.
But it was here, in 1890, in this department store in downtown Brockton that a Scotsman, from Berwickshire, first had the magic sprinkled on him.
Jim Edgar - or Big Jim as the locals knew him - was a broad, jolly sort of fellow who owned the store. He was one of those people - those rare people - who believe that there isn’t enough magic in the world and he set about trying to put that right.
He would dress up all the time to entertain people, often as a clown but in his time he dressed as a Highlander, George Washington and even as Uncle Sam himself, which was apt since Big Jim embodied the traditional idea of the American Dream as much as he embodied Santa Claus.
Before Santa imbued him with his Christmas spirit he had already decided that kids didn’t get enough access to the big guy himself. After all, the only way they ever got to see him was in books or by catching him at the foot of their chimney on Christmas eve.
That wouldn’t do. Edward Pearson was there on that day in December 1890, the day that Santa with a Scottish accent came to Brockton, Massachusetts.
EDWARD PEARSON: “As long as I live and I’ve lived quite a few years, I’ll never forget that experience. All of a sudden, right in front of me, I saw Santa Claus. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
MICHAEL PARK: So Jim Edgar started stepping in for Santa every Christmas to let the big guy focus on the production line at the North Pole.
And then it caught on. Pretty soon every store in America had their own Santa, sprinkled with his very own magic dust. It spread out across the world like all good ideas do and now, thanks to Big Jim Edgar from Duns, wherever you go, you can share in the magic.
That incredible second where every problem, every stress, every bit of anxiety melts away and there’s just this big, jolly person in a red suit who wants you to be the happiest person in the world... just for a moment.
CREDITS
You’ve been listening to Scotland. It was written and produced by me, Michael Park and is a production of Be Quiet Media.
Thank you to Louise for suggesting this story. This is for AJ, Zara, April and Lyra who have been very good this year.
The music for every episode of Scotland is by a man sprinkled with Father Christmas’ magic dust, Mitch Bain. Find more of his amazing tracks by searching Mitch Bain Music on Facebook.
Edward Pearson was voiced by Chris Moriarty.
You can find out more about the show on our website, thisisscotland.co and on twitter, facebook and instagram by searching Scotland - Scottish History Podcast.
Merry Christmas everyone. We’ll see you in the New Year.