Butte memories of Santa Claus

By Leslie Fontana - 12/24/2007

The breadth and depth of Santa Claus came to me when, as a single mother of a 9-year-old girl, I struggled to make ends meet, as my mother and father had, and to make Christmas happen at the same time. I came home from work one snowy, cold December day to find my daughter waiting for me.

“We need to talk,” she said, in the very grown-up way she had of letting me know she was ready for the facts of life. “I want you to know that I know about Santa Claus.” She forged ahead, not letting me interject any of my prepared objections or affirmations. “I want you to know that I know that Santa Claus is real. That he is alive and in our hearts, and that every time you do something for me or for anyone, and don’t expect credit or thanks, you make him real. Thank you, Mom.” That lesson, taught to me by my 9-year-old child, has remained with me to this day. Santa Claus is real, and we all have a responsibility to keep that spirit real. “Santa Responsibility” is a duty each of us has to touch the lives of those we care about, the elderly, the lonely, the less fortunate, and all children.

My love of Christmas and of Santa Claus began long before my daughter reminded me of it. As a child of 8 in the mining city of Butte, I had my first truly meaningful “Santa experience.” The miners were striking against the Anaconda Co. The strike lasted for more than a year, and our family of seven lived on government commodities and often had no electricity. Prospects for Christmas didn’t look good that year, but we did the best we could. We cut our own Christmas trees in those days, and the ornaments and decorations came down from the attic in a large wooden tea crate, as they always did. But as my brother and sisters and I watched our parents struggle to pay the bills, we knew the only presents we would get would come from Santa Claus.

And so they did. I got a baby buggy and doll that year. And though it didn’t seem exactly brand new, it was clean and in good repair. I still remember the blonde hair, the soft pink fabric of the clothing, and the dark blue canvas of the baby buggy. For me, it was the best Christmas ever.

I later learned these gifts were from Walkerville Santa. Jim Worthem had a workshop just north of Butte, in tiny Walkerville, and he collected used toys all year and fixed them up for redistri-bution on Christmas. In later years, he collected donations to buy new toys and had a float in the Fourth of July Parade (complete with sleigh) to solicit donations to buy toys for underprivileged children.

My adventures with Walkerville Santa continued years later, as my sister Aleta and I scoured dollar stores, liquidation centers and thrift shops to find treasures for Christmas stockings. My sister and I have stuffed stockings for as many as 30 people, many of whom have no families and not much else for Christmas. One year, the stocking grew to the size of grocery bags, as we filled them with candy, cookies, personal items and ornaments.

On this day, as we scoured one liquidation center in the warehouse district of Butte, my sister whispered to me, “We’re being followed.” An elderly gentleman watched us as we giggled like school girls, finding just the accent for a stocking, or an incredible buy on chocolate or hard candy. “He’s probably store security,” I whispered back to her. “Behave yourself.” The man helped us carry our many parcels to the car, and introduced himself. “I’m Walkerville Santa, and I’m collecting donations for the kids for Christmas.” I had finally met Santa Claus. I was once again a child of 8, and we laughed as I emptied my pockets and purse of all the cash I had to give it to him. We later learned that it was his son who owned the liquidation store we frequented. When we unpacked our parcels, I found a new Santa for my Father Christmas collection. I do not know where he came from, or how he got into my bag.

Walkerville Santa died the following year, and I hope wherever he is, he knows that he spread the spirit of Christmas beyond his lifespan.

— Leslie (Rickey) Fontana grew up in Butte and now lives at 1124 13th Ave. S. in Great Falls.