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Editor’s Note: There’s something especially enchanting about blending the wonder of aviation with the spirit of the holidays. In this nostalgic tale from December 1955, the author, a devoted aviator, shares the heartwarming story of delaying his shopping for a special Christmas mission: delivering Santa Claus himself to a group of wide-eyed children in his Piper Clipper.
Operation Santa Claus
by E.C. Rink
Operation Santa Clause originally published in December 1955.
NELLIE was disappointed just as I knew she’d be when I broke the sad news. “Honey,” I said while we were doing the supper dishes. I promised Norm I’d fly Santa Claus into the airport tomorrow morning—some publicity stunt for his market as you might guess.’ Nellie’s answer was a cold stare.
Couldn’t we postpone the Christmas shopping until after lunch ?” I asked hopefully.
But I’ve already asked a sitter to come at ten o’clock. And there’s not only the shopping but a thousand other things to do,” Nellie pouted.
Well golly Ned, I couldn’t say no. You know Norm when he gets an idea in his head. Besides, where’s your Christmas spirit ?” I challenged.
“Alright, go off to the North Pole. I’ll manage somehow without you,” but she smiled a little and changed the subject. I relaxed a little knowing Nellie would somehow rearrange our schedule.
The next morning over the hearty breakfast of waffles and bacon we always have on Saturday, Nellie was full of questions, a sure sign she’d forgiven me.
“I’d fly over to Williamsville where Santa will be waiting for me to bring him back to our airport. Santa talks to the kids for thirty or forty minutes and then I fly him out,” I explained.
“I suppose Santa tells all the kids to have their mommies shop at Norman’s Market for their Christmas candy, fruitcake and pot roasts,” Nellie added impishly.
“Why don’t you bring Jimmy, Jr. down to see us land I whispered to Nellie out in the kitchen.
“And disillusion him? He’s already seen the Santa Claus in the department store,” she answered.
Well, good luck, Rudolph,” said Nellie as she kissed me goodbye. “And don’t stay out there hangar flying after your mission’s accomplished. I’ve plans for you, Big Boy!”
It was with mixed emotions that I drove the three miles to our new airport. Much as I love anything that touches on flying, this morning, I resented the interruption almost as much as Nellie had.
The line boy had my Piper Clipper pushed out of the hangar, and soon I had it warmed up and was flying over our little town. The world below me looked like a Christmas card with all its patches of snow.
The short trip to Williamsville, though, was just a teaser. Landing at its tiny strip, I saw not a sign of life. I got out, lit a cigarette and paced up and down in the cold. Three cigarettes and several oaths later, I heard an ancient car rattle up. A large, red-trousered man spilled out and hurried my way. Over his arm was a matching fur trimmed coat, in one hand his silken whiskers, in the other was his red cap fringed with long white hair. Half-costumed as he was, he hardly resembled any St. Nick I’d ever seen, except he was well padded by nature. The old man was panting for breath.
We shook hands, but I noticed his hands were still shaking after we’d finished our greeting.
“Mighty nice of you, Mr. Rink,” he said. “But I’ll have to tell you one thing. I’ve never been up in one of these airplanes before. Don’t think I’d have been so quick to tell Mr. Norman I’d be his Santy if I’d a known flying was part of the bargain. Trouble is, I already spent the five dollars he gave me in advance.
I thought I detected a hint of whiskey on the old man’s breath I watched him closely.
“Nothing to it,’ I answered cheerfully. This plane of mine is safer than that car of yours.” Tell the truth, ’tain’t my car. Borrowed it. I’d be ashamed to own such a rattletrap.”
“Oh,” I said, trying to sum up the situation.
“I’ve been trying to tell myself flying’s safe enough, but something inside of me keeps talking back.” He was struggling with the red coat so I gave him a hand.
“You know, all my life I’ve wanted to play Santa Claus, and now when I’m sixty-six years old, I get my big chance. And then the fun’s wellnigh spoiled with the airplane thrown into the deal. No insult to you, Mr. Rink,” he added kindly. “Is everyone scared as me the first time?” The pale blue eyes that looked wistfully at me reminded me of Jimmy, Jr. when he has a bad splinter in his hand.
Luckily, I had some dramanune in the plane, so I offered him a capsule along with a piece of chlorophyll gum which I hoped woodor decrease the slight but definite of whiskey. At least, the old man was cooperative and not the least bit drunk. He probably hadn’t taken more than a teaspoonful, I figured, as I remembered how my father used to take a little snifter for “medicinal purposes.”
I made an elaborate check of the plane waiting for the dramamine to work. The old man followed me, nervous as a dog.
“I worked around a garage half my life,” he volunteered. “I like machinery.”
So I gave him a ten minute course in airplane mechanics. His questions were intelligent, but when I lifted up the cowling to show him my nice, clean Lycoming engine, he couldn’t believe there was no radiator. All the time I was pointing to the safety features of the plane, but he was still nervous.
“Don’t you think we better get going, Son ?” he asked timidly. “Hate to keep the kiddies waiting on such a cold morning. I sure hope the little rascals don’t trip me up. Kids are smarter these days.”
Fortunately he remembered his big bag of candy and I dashed over to the antiquated car to get it.
I climbed into the plane and directed Santa to follow. It was quite a struggle but he finally made it. Tight as we were, we managed to fasten the safety-belt.
Once in the air, I glanced over at my passenger. His big, dark-creased hands were tense against his knees, his eyes riveted on the clock on the instrument panel.
“Lordy, but he’s going to look awfully glum to those kids,” I thought.
“There’s the town hall.” I pointed to the right. His eyes darted off but came back to rest on the clock.
“Like to fly over your house, maybe?” He shook his head. “We’re late now,” and he gave me a weak smile.
As we neared our own airport, I talked about the landing procedure as though I were an instructor. Santa was only politely interested. His hands kept fingering the silken whiskers to be sure they were anchored.
“Twasn’t so bad, now was it?” I asked as we taxied over to the hangar where a big crowd was waiting.
Santa didn’t answer; his eyes were glued on the audience. Even part of the High School band was there, and of all things they were playing Rudolph, the Red Nosed Reindeer.
The old man looked pretty darned good as he waddled over to the crowd as Santa.
“The show’s all yours, Santa,” I said as I handed him the toy sack he would have forgotten.
The old man looked pretty darned good as he waddled over to the crowd. I parked the plane in a hurry to get over on the sidelines First thing, Norm caught my eye and gave me a wink. He was standing beside Hizzoner, the Mayor, and some other VIP’s.
Santa was nervous at first. With every pause, he’d give forth with a HO! Ho! Ho!, his big hands dn his generous middle. But as the children believed in him, Santa began to believe in himself. His eyes twinkled now as the kids beseeched him for dolls and guns, and model airplanes—”one just like yours,” one little tyke said.
A smart alec boy of twelve or fourteen yelled out, “Santa Claus, did you fly that plane in?”
“Nope, son, I didn’t this time. You see, I’ve been so busy with the Christmas rush, I brought my copilot along so’s I could take a few winks along the way.”
“What kind of a plane have you got ?” asked the boy.
“It’s a Piper,” Santa Claus came right back. I relaxed.
“Cub, Pacer, Tri-Pacer or Apache ?” he demanded. I wanted to choke that brat.
Just then Santa knelt over to talk to a shy little girl. A tiny bottle fell out on the concrete and broke, spilling a brown liquid.
I ambled over to Santa Claus and whispered in his ear.
“My pilot says we’ve got some more calls to make and we’d better get along,” he told the crowd.
“That’s a laugh,” snickered the tormenter. I caught him full face and threw him my dirtiest look.
There’d have been kids all over that plane if the line boys hadn’t held them back. Santa climbed in easier this time, fastened the belt like an expert, and waved goodbye to his admirers.
Once we were out of the pattern, I throttled back so we could visit more easily.
“I was mighty proud of you, Santa,” I said truthfully.
“Honest, did I do all right? You know I was really enjoying myself and was thinking it wasn’t right to take Mr. Norman’s money, and then that kid started in. “Wasn’t he a stinker ?” Santa chuckled as though he were enjoying a joke on himself.
“Like to take the stick and follow through with me?” Santa touched the stick as though it triggered an atomic bomb.
“Any hurry to get home?” I asked. He shook his head.
So we flew around for an hour or more. The old fellow had a good sense of feel once he relaxed. He asked me about my family and volunteered the information that his wife had died a year before and after that he’d moved out to the County Farm.
“Tain’t like home of course, but then it ain’t as lonesome as living alone either. It’s just that awful monotony with nothing much to look forward to but the next meal,” he said wistfully and then brightened. “Wait ’till I tell them about today,” and he gave forth with his best Santa Claus chuckle.
When we landed at Williamsville, there was Norm pacing up and down much as I had several hours earlier.
“Where have you two been?” he boomed. “I’ve been waiting to tell you it went over big.” He pumped Santa’s hand and slapped me on the back.
“Many thanks, Jim,” he said.
“AW, shucks, it wasn’t anything. Call me any time Norm,” I said with sincerity.
I flew back to the home airport feeling real good about the whole operation. But the big surprise came when I climbed into my car. Hidden under my discarded overcoat was a huge frozen turkey. Now there was no doubt Nellie would forgive me for frittering away half the day.
She appreciated the turkey all right, but she said it wasn’t right to keep it. So we just left the turkey along with some other things at the County Farm with a card signed,”From Santa Claus.”
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