Williams wrote and published “White Christmas” in 1953, on the eve of the modern civil rights movement. This story captures the mood and attitudes of African Americans at a critical juncture in US history. World War II had created a climate that made it possible for blacks to make significant economic, social, and political gains. As a result of continued migration to Northern and Midwestern industrial centers, African Americans increased their political power. Though legalized segregation and discrimination prevailed throughout the South, and blacks in the North and West were often the targets of discrimination in housing and employment, they no longer accepted their second-class citizenship as inevitable. There was an air of freedom in America, a feeling that change was coming. Throughout the world, people of color were gaining their freedom as colonialism came to an end in many countries. The impact of those events, and of the United Nations’ support for the human rights of all people, signaled a change in attitude that was evident in the higher branches of the US government.
In the 1950s, many young people were aware of America’s history of slavery and of the role blacks played in achieving their freedom. Those who gave their lives in the struggle were declared heroes; others were viewed as Uncle Toms. Resistance against white oppression, whether by word or deed, was viewed as an important part of the black struggle. Challenging the symbols of racism was a sign of courage, especially when it could mean the end of one’s life or livelihood. In “White Christmas,” Uncle Charlie understands the protocol of race and racism, for he has managed to walk that line and keep his “good” job at the exclusive country club where he works as the maître d’hôtel. Given the exceedingly limited employment opportunities available to black men during this time, this was considered an excellent job for someone with an education, let alone an uneducated person.
While Uncle Charlie and his sister, Ophelia, a “day worker” or domestic, accept the reality of their existence, John Thomas did not. Ophelia’s ten-year-old son, John, lives with his Uncle Charlie in an impoverished neighborhood where he learns what it means to be a “colored” boy. He, like his counterparts, is critical of his elders and others whom he believes ingratiate themselves to whites and accept ill treatment. John respects and looks up to Uncle Charlie, whom he expects to be a “man” and challenge white racism. Uncle Charlie is keenly aware of the enormous responsibility he has for seeing that John understands who he is and that he develops confidence and a belief in himself.
In “White Christmas,” Uncle Charlie gave his nephew John an indispensable Christmas gift, one that cannot be bought—he gave him back his self-respect!
White Christmas
It was beginning to snow, but young John Thomas didn’t even seem to notice.
Uncle Charlie was worried about his ten-year-old nephew. Ten was a hard age for a boy even if he had a Daddy and even if he wasn’t colored.
Uncle Charlie had watched John Thomas grow more and more quiet and he knew what that meant. It meant that the boy’s world was constantly falling into two categories, the right or the wrong, the good or the bad, and, most important to young John Thomas these days, the white or the colored.
Ten is the age when most youngsters are taught there is something wrong with being colored.
“Look at that silly old Santa Claus,” John Thomas sneered. “Pasty faced old goat. I hope he freezes.”
The two passed the street-corner Santa but the boy’s attack continued, “I’m sick of white Santa Clauses. Ain’t there no colored ones, nowhere?” The boy didn’t expect an answer to his question.
A Hard Struggle
Charlie thought about his sister, Ophelia. She had done the best she could with the boy since her husband had died.
She’d done day’s work so that the youngsters would always have a clean place to live, enough to eat and clothes to wear. But she hadn’t taken much time out to explain things to him.
She hadn’t been able to cancel out the hard words that John Thomas was learning in school, the epithets, the talk of slums, disease, dirt and poverty that he was beginning to think were all a part of being colored.
Ophelia accepted her lot. Charlie could see John Thomas did not. He had seen the hurt in the sensitive child’s face when once Ophelia had sighed wearily after a hard day’s work, “It’s a white man’s world all right. Nothin’ for no one else.”
That’s one reason Charlie had, year after year, taken John Thomas to the Christmas parties given at the exclusive country club where he worked. He wanted the boy to see beautiful surroundings.
Charlie had been maître d’hôtel for nearly twenty-five years and no one minded his bringing his big-eyed little nephew for the holiday festivities. And Charlie had plans for the boy’s future.
Did Not Want to Go
There was always a towering, brightly-lighted tree, a Santa whom everyone knew was the Chef, and lots and lots of presents for everyone.
The first year John Thomas went, his eyes had lit up and he’d loved every moment of the brief wonder-world. Now he didn’t want to go with his Uncle Charlie anymore.
Uncle Charlie couldn’t be expected to understand how he felt.
This club was his world.
Maybe his name should have been Uncle Tom instead of Uncle Charlie.
“That’s all he is with his bowing and scraping to those big white folks,” the boy thought savagely.
John Thomas didn’t want any of that charity handed out to him.
He came in through the kitchen, so he didn’t really belong at any party with millionaires’ brats.
Too Much Spirit
The kids were nice enough, he admitted to himself grudgingly. It was the club members who stopped in to look at their children after a quick trip to the bar.
They were the ones who rubbed his head “for luck,” or called him “Sunshine” or “Snowball.”
Last year one flipped him a quarter “to buy himself a Cadillac.” They were just full of “too much Christmas spirits,” Uncle Charlie had explained. But it hurt anyhow.
“Here we are,” John Thomas’s Uncle Charlie’s voice broke through the boy’s dark thoughts. They were at the side door of the club.
“We’re not going in through the kitchen?”
“No, we can go in the side. You go on and play with the children. You know most of the ones your age. I’ll be in after I see how things are going.”
“I’ll go with you Uncle Charlie,” the boy said, quietly, just to let his uncle know he knew where he really belonged.
The Chef’s Sick
Uncle Charlie shrugged wearily. After hanging up their coats, they went into the warm high-ceilinged kitchen.
The long serving tables were cleared of all other food except trays of sandwiches and cookies and there was a steaming kettle of cocoa on the huge range. Party fare for the youngsters. But no one was there except Mr. Jenkins, the club president. He looked terribly upset.
“The children are all out there singing and waiting for Santa Claus to appear, Charlie. And Chef’s gone home sick. Who in the world can we get to play Santa Claus?”
Mr. Jenkins held the bright red Santa suit in his hand and kept peeping through the tiny windows in the kitchen door as if he could actually see the children in the Assembly Room.
“Chef sick?” Uncle Charlie asked. “Nothing short of near-death itself would keep him away from these Christmas parties. He’s been playing Santa for—how many years is it, Mr. Jenkins?”
“No matter now, Charlie. No matter. We’ve got to find another Santa and quick!”
A Bright Idea
“Well, Mr. Jenkins, you could . . .” Uncle Charlie began.
“Me!” Mr. Jenkins threw his despairing hands out in a gesture that made Charlie and his nephew realize that Mr. Jenkins could not have weighed more than 130 pounds.
“But, Charlie, you—yes indeed. You could play Santa Claus,” Mr. Jenkins exulted.
“But I . . .”
“No buts about it. Here let’s hustle you off. Th
e children are waiting.” In seconds the white jacketed maître d’hôtel was transformed into a brilliant red Santa.
John Thomas couldn’t believe his eyes. A colored Santa Claus—and in this exclusive club! His chest began to swell pridefully.
The Mask
Mr. Jenkins was delighted. He made appreciative little clucking sounds as he adjusted the belt. “And your nephew can be Santa’s helper,” Mr. Jenkins said expansively.
“Oh yes, Charlie, here’s your mask.” He handed Uncle Charlie the pasty white mask from which streamed a snowy yak-hair beard.
John Thomas lowered his eyes. Uncle Charlie wasn’t going to be a colored Santa Claus. He was going to pass for a white Santa.
Charlie saw the change of expression in his nephew’s eyes. He held the mask in his hands as Mr. Jenkins pushed him through the door.
“I’ll call you in a minute, John Thomas,” he said, lifting the mask to his face. “You’re going to help me, you know.”
John Thomas didn’t answer. Suddenly the ache in his body was too heavy to bear. If there couldn’t even be a colored Santa Claus, then there couldn’t be a colored mayor or president, or a colored police chief or four-star general.
Tears brimmed in his eyes and he fought manfully to keep them from spilling down his tight little cheek.
Loving Santa
The muffled shouts of the joyous children came through to him. “Santa! Santa! We love you Santa!” They loved Santa all right—but not Uncle Charlie who was underneath—passing.
Suddenly someone burst through the door. It was one of the youngsters John Thomas remembered from other parties. His eyes were shining bright.
“Your uncle says to come on. We’re going to help pass out the presents and some of the other kids are going to pass the food out. Chef’s sick, you know. Say, your Uncle Charlie sure makes a keen Santa Claus.”
How did he know it was Uncle Charlie? The boy pulled John Thomas to his feet and toward the gala Assembly Room. There before a tree that towered almost to the ceiling stood Uncle Charlie.
He was dressed as Santa Claus all right, but there was no mask over his beaming brown face. The young children clung to his legs and pulled at him.
What had happened? Then he heard his uncle’s voice. “There are my helpers. Come on boys, the presents are high and the children are waiting,” and John Thomas was swept into the holiday mood.
The Party Ends
Finally the party was over. The last present had been opened, the last marshmallow in the last cup of cocoa had been captured. The children were gone home.
John Thomas stood close to his uncle. What would they do to him for going out there like that—without the mask?
What would the club men think of the colored Santa Claus? Maybe they’d even fire Uncle Charlie. The boy would not have his uncle’s side, a fierce new pride burned in him.
There was Mr. Jenkins coming. Uncle Charlie was packing away the Santa suit.
Mr. Jenkins was solemn. He held out his hand to Uncle Charlie. “Nice job, Charlie, nice job. That was a pretty fine speech you made about Santa Claus representing the brotherhood of man and the love for little children.”
The Best Thing
“Taking that mask off was the best thing you could have done. You made the children understand what Christmas really is.”
His voice was warm and a little tremulous around the edges. He looked straight into Uncle Charlie’s eyes and he went on quietly “You’ve got me believing in Santa Claus again myself.”
The two men shook hands and Mr. Jenkins turned to John Thomas. “Your uncle’s already gotten his Christmas bonus from the club and I know he wouldn’t take this money for being Santa Claus so I’m going to give it to you, John Thomas.
“Save it for your college education, son. Your uncle’s told me how he’s saving to help send you through. God bless you both, merry Christmas!”
He pressed the crisp bills into the boy’s hands and was gone. The kitchen was strangely silent. Uncle Charlie wrapped a few sandwiches up. “We’re to take some home to Mama?” the boy nodded eagerly.
A few hours ago he wouldn’t have been caught dead taking a thing home from this kitchen. Now he wanted to share as much of this magic afternoon with his mother as he could.
White Christmas Approaches
The two shrugged into their coats and Uncle Charlie closed the outside door behind him, making sure the kitchen area was locked up. A moist snow flake brushed John Thomas’s warm cheek. He held out his hand to catch a few.
“Looks like we’re going to have a white Christmas,” he said, making small talk and falling in with his uncle’s long stride.
“Is that good or bad, John Thomas?”
John Thomas smiled because he knew his uncle was not asking about the weather. “I guess it depends on how you look at it, huh Uncle Charlie.”
Uncle Charlie got his hand on the boy’s shoulder as the pair trudged out of the driveway. A great weight was lifted from the man because he knew now that John Thomas understood many, many things.
He had given the boy back his self-respect, a present that would grow with the youngster for all the Christmases to come.
SOURCES
MARGARET BLACK “A Christmas Party That Prevented a Split in the Church,” Baltimore Afro-American, December 23, 1916.
JOHN HENRIK CLARKE “Santa Claus Is a White Man,” Opportunity, December 1939.
FANNY JACKSON COPPIN “Christmas Eve Story,” A.M.E. Christian Recorder, December 23, 1880.
ANDREW DOBSON “The Devil Spends Christmas Eve in Dixie,” Chicago Defender, December 22, 1934.
W. E. B. DU BOIS “The Sermon in the Cradle,” Crisis, December 1921.
ALICE MOORE DUNBAR “The Children’s Christmas,” Indianapolis Freeman, December 25, 1897.
TIMOTHY THOMAS FORTUNE “Mirama’s Christmas Test,” Indianapolis Freeman, December 19, 1896.
ADELE HAMLIN “Merry Christmas Eve,” Baltimore Afro-American, December 25, 1948.
AUGUSTUS M. HODGES “The Christmas Reunion Down at Martinsville,” Indianapolis Freeman, December 29, 1894.
“Three Men and a Woman,” Indianapolis Freeman, December 20 and 27, 1902; January 3, 10, 17, and 31; May 30, June 6, and July 4 and 11, 1903.
PAULINE ELIZABETH HOPKINS “General Washington: A Christmas Story,” Colored American Magazine, December 1900.
LANGSTON HUGHES “One Christmas Eve,” Opportunity, December 1933.
JAMES CONWAY JACKSON “Uncle U.S. Santa Claus,” Washington Bee, December 27, 1913.
MARY JENNESS “A Carol of Color,” Opportunity, December 1927.
MARY E. LEE “Mollie’s Best Christmas Gift,” Christian Recorder, December 31, 1885.
LELIA PLUMMER “The Autobiography of a Dollar Bill,” Colored American Magazine, December 1904.
LOUIS LORENZO REDDING “A Christmas Journey,” Opportunity, December, 1925.
BRUCE L. REYNOLDS “It Came to Pass: A Christmas Story,” Chicago Defender, December 23, 1939.
CARRIE JANE THOMAS “A Christmas Story,” Christian Recorder, December 24, 1885.
KATHERINE DAVIS TILLMAN “Fannie May’s Christmas,” Christian Recorder, December 29, 1921.
SALEM TUTT WHITNEY “Elsie’s Christmas,” Indianapolis Freeman, December 28, 1912.
VALENA MINOR WILLIAMS “White Christmas,” Baltimore Afro-American, December 19, 1953.
Beacon Press
Boston, Massachusetts
www.beacon.org
Beacon Press books
are published under the auspices of
the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations.
© 2018 by Bettye Collier-Thomas
All rights reserved
Text design and composition by Michael Starkman at
Wilsted & Taylor Publishing Services
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Collier-Thomas, Bettye, editor.
Title: A treasury of African American Christ
mas stories / compiled and edited by Bettye Collier-Thomas.
Description: Boston : Beacon Press, [2018]
Identifiers: LCCN 2018017993 (print) | LCCN 2018021638 (ebook) | ISBN 9780807027936 (ebook) | ISBN 9780807027837 (hardback : acid-free paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Christmas—Literary collections. | American literature—African American authors. | African Americans—Literary collections. | BISAC: FICTION / African American / Christian. | FICTION / African American / Historical.
Classification: LCC PS509.C56 (ebook) | LCC PS509.C56 T73 2018 (print) | DDC 810.8/033408996073—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018017993
A Treasury of African American Christmas Stories Page 20