Alan Tucker’s journey as Santa started because he was a hippie with a Volkswagen.
The 62-year-old Russellville resident said he’s had a beard off and on through the years, “because I grew up in the hippie days.”
About 10 years ago, he and his wife, Judy, restored a 1969 Volkswagen Beetle for fun. “It was red,” he said.
The couple were in a Volkswagen club, and they went to a lot of Christmas parades, where he donned a Santa hat and drove his red bug.
“People would say, “There’s Santa Claus!’ It felt good,” Tucker said.
He didn’t just buy a cheap suit and hang out his snow-covered shingle.
“When I started this, I decided I wanted to be the best I could be,” Tucker said.
His Santa suit was custom-made in California.
“The suit, if you think about it, a 5-year-old doesn’t care. The suit is more for the parents, because they’re remembering,” he said.
He has a Santa wardrobe, including a suit that he wears when posing with animals, everything from snakes to goats.
Santa has learned a few things: “Little Chihuahuas will eat you up sometimes,” he said.
Tucker also went to Santa school.
“I did some research and found a Santa school in Atlanta, Ga., where I had some family,” he said. “Part of it is just meeting people who do the same thing, the camaraderie.”
The Ouachita Baptist University graduate has attended Santa school three times, learning the finer details of Santahood.
“You learn how to be a Santa, how to be a better Santa. You learn about ethics; how to take care of your beard,” he said.
In this age of lawsuits, he said, Santas are taught to have their hands visible at all times.
One Santa course he took was in basic sign language.
“It’s kind of like the old Miracle on 34th Street, where he sang to the girl in Dutch,” Tucker said.
The Santa students work on ho-ho-ho’s, and Tucker’s are deep and jolly, but he adjusts for the situation.
“Children with autism — many do not like loud noises, so your ho, ho, ho has to be very soft,” he said.
“I’ve always loved working with children,” he said. “I have no children of my own; my wife has grown children.”
Tucker grew up in Pine Bluff, and his parents, Travis and Vernice Tucker, now live in Heber Springs.
“We lived out in the country, and I remember most Christmases, it seems like we had more snow and ice in those days. Dad had bought one of the fancy technological advances at that point, a Polaroid Instamatic camera. What was funny was that for several years, our Christmas pictures had no pictures of Dad because he was taking the pictures. He wouldn’t let anyone else use that fancy technology.”
Tucker majored in history and religion at OBU and became a youth director and pastor for several churches before going into social work.
He has worked for the Arkansas Department of Correction and the Department of Human Services’ Division of Children and Family Services.
For the past four years, Tucker has worked at the Arkansas Department of Workforce Services in Russellville, where his specialty is finding resources for customers who have disabilities, whether physical or cognitive.
“I learn what they can do, what they have done, what they’d like to do, and I do a little reality-based counseling — yes, you’d like to do this, but here’s what it takes,” he said.
He devised and teaches a course on disability etiquette for the staff: “How to feel more comfortable with and work with those with disabilities.”
Tucker uses the story of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer when he speaks to adults about disabilities. He said Rudolph was born with a facial disfigurement, yet he was successful.
Tucker’s cubicle at work is decorated in “Santa stuff,” he said. “I have under my desk a toy bag. When we have customers come in with children who are unruly or fussy, Santa will give them a little toy.”
This will be the seventh year he and Mrs. Claus will spend Christmas Day visiting patients at Arkansas Children’s Hospital in Little Rock.
“We were the first professional Santas they’d ever had,” he said. “Get there about 7:30ish (a.m.), and we stay until we see every child.”
A burn unit is also located at the hospital, so the Clauses visit all ages.
“We had a new one that weighed 1 1/2 pounds and a woman in her early 90s who had burned her hands,” he said.
“We always see little miracles of children who have never smiled.”
One moment he’ll never forget is visiting a child in a coma, who woke up when he arrived.
“I was taking his hand and letting him touch my beard, and his eyes opened up. The doctor happened to be there and went berserk that there was a response.”
The visit is usually an emotional one.
“When we’re doing it — we are Mrs. Santa and Mr. Claus. After we leave, we reserve the right to break down,” he said.
“We sit in the car and talk about it — what we liked and what was sad — and sort of debrief.”
Tucker, who has studied the history of Santa, said, “Santa is a giver. That can be a present, or that can be a gift of time.”
Although Tucker looks like Santa year-round and has children running up to him in July, he starts his serious gigs after Thanksgiving.
Because he and Mrs. Claus don’t have time for Christmas, they go to Branson, Mo., in November, and that’s their holiday time.
In December, he’s busy almost every night, from attending school functions and civic-club meetings to riding in Christmas parades throughout the state, including Fayetteville, Jonesboro and Russellville.
“He’s Santa Claus in my eyes,” said Kelli Nealy, special events coordinator for the Russellville Recreation and Parks Department. “He’s wonderful.”
Of course, a big part of his job is having his picture made with children and hearing their Christmas wishes.
Some children will tell Tucker, “I don’t believe in Santa.” He tells them, “‘Well, I believe in you; let’s take a picture.’”
Other children come with a long list, and some get too nervous to speak.
“Parents say, ‘Tell Santa what you want,’ but they’re frozen. You’re with The Man.”
And about the 3-year-old range, “those are the freakers,” he said.
To get good facial reactions, he’ll ask the boys if they want underwear for Christmas, and he asks the girls if they have a boyfriend.
“Sometimes you can tell if you’ve got a young person or child that’s a handful. I’ll have a child cross their arms or pout, and I’ll point my finger at them like I’m scolding them,’” Tucker said, chuckling.
“It’s about creating a moment.”
Last summer, he went to a clown convention in Branson, “which upset some of my Santa brothers,” he said. “They said, ‘We’re not clowns.’”
Tucker agreed.
“I said, ‘I know we’re not clowns; we’re entertainers, re-enactors of a historical figure.’”
The clowns, who were “just a bunch of regular people” in street clothes when he arrived, all wanted their pictures taken with Santa.
“I love going to nursing homes,” Tucker said, although “nursing home patients are the worst at pulling on beards because they have big hands.”
In many cases, elderly people have never had a picture taken with Santa, including one woman he met who was 103.
Another time, an 87-year-old woman was in a nursing home, and the staff told Tucker she was dying. As he went room to room, he didn’t want to intrude, but the family wanted him to come in.
He talked to the dying woman.
“She had that little window that sometimes they have before they die that they know something,” he said.
“I was talking to an 87-year-old lady who was talking like and responding like a 6-year-old. We sang songs together. Her family was behind her boohooing,” he said.
“It was her first and last
picture with Santa — her last picture.”
Another time he had a woman proudly show him a 1942 photo of her with Santa.
“I said, ‘Let’s re-create it,” he said.
He suggested that she wear something similar and they get their photo made together.
To this day, he said, she puts the vintage photo on one end of her mantel and the photo with him on the other.
“By taking the pictures, I
become part of that family’s heritage, their family history,” he said.
Tucker is a hip Santa — he has a website, www.Santaclausamerica.com.
He sold the red Volkswagen Beetle; now he drives a little white car he calls Snowflake.
It makes no difference what he drives, though.
“You’re either Santa or you’re not,” Tucker said.
Senior writer Tammy Keith can be reached at (501) 327-0370 or tkeith@arkansasonline.com.