The Santa With Two Bags, One Under Each Eye

This story needs no explanation, other than it was published in the Indianapolis Star, Christmas Eve, 1974. I suspect the drawing of Allen’s Alley is by Sam Berman.

THE MYSTERY SANTA
By FREDERICK JOHN
DURING THE Depression, Dorchester, a residential section of Boston, was faced with unemployment and other problems of the times. Still, there were occasional happy faces, especially at Christmas.
Somehow the people of Dorchester managed to pinch together enough pennies to assure loved ones of the gifts of the great day. And there were the “mystery Christmas presents.”
They came from nowhere during the holiday season. Nobody knew who sent them. Once they arrived, for a few days at least, hard times were forgotten in Dorchester.
There was another reason for good feeling in Dorchester. Fred Allen, a local vaudeville juggler, had hit it big on radio as a comedian. There was even talk he would soon be making movies in Hollywood.
“IT'S Town Hall tonight,” the announcer said. “And here comes Fred Allen now, leading Jack Benny and a parade of guests.”
Clancy got up from his chair long enough to snap off the parlor radio.
“Can't stand that guy,” said Clancy. “Give me Pick and Pat every time. They're what I call funny.”
“Fred's funny, too,” his wife, Maggie insisted. “You're jealous. He grew up in the same neighborhood. He's on the radio making big money. You're sitting home doing nothing.”
Clancy snarled.
“What about the waiter's job?” his wife asked. “They would have hired me, Maggie,” the husband said sadly, “only I didn't own one of those black suits. They told me they'd be able to give me work if I had one of those waiter suits with the black bow ties.”
Maggie sighed. “It's going to be a sad Christmas,” she said. “No money's coming in and everything's going out. They'll be no joy for us this holiday.”
The next day, Christmas Eve, a messenger knocked on the door of Clancy's flat. Clancy, it should be noted, was not his real name. The messenger left a Christmas package and departed. Inside was a black waiter's suit which fit Clancy perfectly.

QUITE a few people in Fred Allen's old neighborhood were listening to him that Christmas week. Mrs. Cappadona was among them. She almost smiled when Jack Benny tried to sell her former neighbor a second hand car.
Mrs. Cappadona had trouble smiling. True, her husband had a job, there was enough money for food, coal and other essentials. But all Mrs. Cappadona's upper teeth had been removed a few months earlier. She lacked the money for an upper plate—$42, the dentist wanted.
The morning after the Allen show—Christmas Eve—Mrs. Cappadona received a telegram from her dentist (she couldn't afford a phone). The doctor wanted her in his office immediately.
“It's a good thing I made those impressions,” the dentist said, as he placed the brand new set of uppers into Mrs. Cappadona's mouth. "You'll be able to enjoy a hearty Christmas dinner.”
“I can't pay for these,” she reminded him.
“The teeth are a Christmas gift,” the dentist revealed. “They came from an old friend of yours.”
“I don't have any friends who can afford $42 gifts,” she objected.
“Yes, you do,” he said.
Mrs. Cappadona's smile at that was genuine, although the name is not.
MARGARET O'Shea was another Dorchesterite who enjoyed the Allen radio show that Christmas week. She had reason to be happy. Her husband was earning enough to get by on and there would be gifts for young Tommy. They were concealed in a bedroom closet.
Where the gifts came from she would never know. The doorbell rang and a messenger came in loaded down with Christmas toys, including the red fire engine her son had dreamed of getting.
Tommy, 5, wanted to be a fireman. But a few days earlier Tommy had been hit by a car near his home. The injuries had been minor, but the day in the hospital had cost all the money Mrs. O'Shea had put away for Christmas.
Mrs. O'Shea was not, however, her real name.
She told Mrs. Nellie O'Connell about having to spend the Christmas money on medical bills.
“Maybe something will come up,” said Mrs. O'Connell, who really was named Mrs. O'Connell. “Maybe there really is a Santa Claus and maybe he'll drop by your house on Christmas Eve.”
MRS. O'Connell headed across the street to confer with her good friend Elizabeth Lovely.
Mrs. Lovely was Aunt Liz, Fred Allen's aunt, the woman who raised him on Grafton Street in Dorchester after his parents died.
Elizabeth Lovely, Nellie O'Connell and the Rev. William Ryan, pastor of St. Margaret's Church in Dorchester, all are gone now.
So is Fred Allen. He died in 1956.
But all four played an important part in making Christmas merrier in Dorchester. They were the ones responsible for delivery of the “mystery Christmas presents.”

Even in the 1940s, when there was prosperity, the gifts continued to be delivered to those who needed a helping hand.
“Fred Allen never forgot where he came from,” said Daniel O'Connell, Nellie's son, now in his 60s. “One time, one of the kids on a local baseball team got hurt. Fred paid the medical bills and nobody ever knew he did.
“FRED lived with Aunt Liz, her husband, Mike, and another aunt, Jane Herlihy. They lived on the second floor and I lived on the first floor with my mom and dad.
“Every year during the Depression, Fred sent a check to his Aunt Liz. It always came a few weeks before Christmas and it was always a big check. Fred believed in sharing his blessings.
“There would be a note with the check. Fred always asked his aunt to check out families in the old neighborhood and to help those who needed a helping hand at Christmas. He always wrote, ‘Use your own judgment, Aunt Liz. You'll know the ones who really need help.’
“Then Mrs. Lovely would call my mother upstairs and they'd swap information for an hour or so. After that, Aunt Liz and my mother would go to St. Margaret's where they'd chat with Father Ryan, the pastor, for quite a while. He'd make some phone calls to other priests and ministers and rabbis in the area and eventually a list of people in need of help at Christmas would be compiled.
“If there was a real emergency, Mrs. Lovely would go right over and hand the people some money,” concluded O'Connell. “In most cases though, the gifts, or money, were sent anonymously. Those who needed help never knew where it came from.”
Toward the end of his Christmas show more than four decades ago, Fred Allen stepped out of character long enough to say: “From all of us here in the studio to all of you at home, may your Christmas be a joyous and blessed one.”
If you are still alive Clancy and Mrs. Cappadona and Margaret O'Shea, at last you know the identity of your mystery Santa Claus of years ago.
He had baggy eyes.