When Christmas Came to Nashville: Part 2
An Avalanche of Letters to Santa
When Christmas Came to Nashville is a four-part holiday story based on actual events which took place in and around Nashville, TN between 1883 and 1888. Some creative liberties have been taken in bringing this wonderful lost & found story back to life, however, every effort has been made to honor the heart, soul and sentiments of the original story throughout the process.
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Release Date: December 10, 2024
On December 18, the first Santa story of the 1884 season, “Old Santa Clause, The Jolly Old Fellow at Hand with his Beautiful Boat”, appeared on Page 3 of The Nashville Banner.
The story – which was published a full 10 days later than the previous year’s tale –was prefaced with this note of reassurance:
A great many letters from little boys and girls have been received at The Banner office during the past week, asking if the reporter who visited old Santa Claus and his famous boat last year will again visit him this Christmas. In answer to these numerous inquiries, we will state that the reporter has already paid his annual visit to the jolly old man and inspected his cargo of goodies.
And thusly began the next installment of The Banner man’s Santa story, and it went something like this:
I found Santa Claus as hearty and cheerful as ever. His cheeks were redder, his laugh deeper, and his presence so full of life it seemed to light up the room. But his excitement wasn’t just for Christmas—it was for his newest pride and joy: a gleaming new boat.
“You must see her,” he said, his eyes dancing with delight. “She’s finer than any I’ve had before.”
And indeed, she was. The boat was a marvel, children. Her hull carved from ivory, so white it gleamed like fresh snow, and trimmed in gold and silver that catches the light like icicles in the sun. Stained glass windows—rich with colors more vivid than a rainbow—adorned her sides, and when lit from within, the boat glowed like a star on the water.
The boat was drawn by sixteen white swans, each one magnificent in its grace. Their feathers were as soft as clouds, their movements as smooth as a dream. And yet, for all their beauty, they shared the deck with something even more wondrous: a brightly painted sleigh and eight reindeer.
“Now, these reindeer are special,” Santa told me with a wink.
And special they were. They were white as snow, save for the faintest blush of pink on their ears, tails, and hooves, as though touched by the first light of dawn. Their harnesses, fashioned from gold and silver, jingled with tiny silver bells, and their strength was as impressive as their beauty. When Santa set out to deliver his gifts, these reindeer pulled his sleigh not only across snow but straight up the walls of houses, pausing on rooftops so Santa could slip down the chimneys.
But the most extraordinary feature of this boat, Santa said, wasn’t the ivory hull or the swans or even the reindeer. “No,” he chuckled, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “The real wonder is my pilot.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “Who is it?” I asked.
“Come with me,” he said, beckoning me toward the pilot-house atop the boat.
There, standing tall at the wheel, was a Newfoundland dog—a great, shaggy creature with fur black as coal and eyes bright with intelligence.
“This is Nicaragua,” Santa said, scratching behind the dog’s ears. “He’s the one who keeps us on course.”
I must have looked astonished, for Santa laughed and explained. “He’s the best pilot I’ve ever had. Knows the rivers better than I do, and when the swans get tired in a swift current, he jumps into the water and pulls the boat himself.”
“Pulls the boat?” I asked.
“With a silver rope in his teeth,” Santa said, his pride evident. “And when the waters calm, he climbs back up here, shakes off the spray, and takes the wheel again.”
I could hardly believe it, yet there stood Nicaragua, calm and dignified, as though steering a magical boat were the most natural thing in the world for a Newfoundland dog to do.
After meeting this remarkable pilot, Santa took me below deck, where the true treasure lay. Piles of toys, stacks of books, jars of candies, and rows of shining wagons and dolls filled every corner. It was a sight to make even the grumpiest grown-up feel like a child again.
As I prepared to leave, Santa placed a hand on my shoulder. “Remember,” he said with a grin, “no telling the children where to find me. They’d be up here in no time, trying to ride the swans or feed Nicaragua biscuits!”
I promised to keep his secret, though I could hardly wait to share this tale with you. And as I walked away, the sounds of bells and the soft hum of swans on the water stayed with me, a reminder that Christmas magic is alive and well, carried forward by Santa, his reindeer, and one very clever dog named Nicaragua.
Although Clement Moore’s, A Visit from St. Nicholas, really established Santa as a cherished character in the hearts and minds of America’s children, it was the illustrations of Thomas Nast that brought Santa alive.
Between 1863 and 1886, Nast created 33 illustrations of Santa which appeared in Harper’s Weekly: A Journal of Civilization. Perhaps his most iconic illustration was “Santa Claus’ Mail” which appeared in the publications December 30, 1871 edition. In it, Santa is seen surrounded by toys and sitting at his desk perusing two stacks of letter, a towering one labeled “Letters From Naughty Children's Parents" and a much smaller one labeled, "Letters From Good Children's Parents". The idea of parents contributing to Santa’s Naughty or Nice list was front and center.
But it was another of Nast’s illustrations that became especially impactful and changed the way children around the country viewed their relationship with the man in red. Published January 4, 1879, “N'The Christmas Post” depicted a young boy dropping a letter addressed to St. Claus, North Pole into a postal box.
The idea that children themselves could write letters to Santa was born.
The earliest publication of a letter to Santa I found in Nashville newspaper archives appeared, not in The Banner, but in their competitor newspaper, The Tennessean.
The first appeared December 18, 1881, and was brought to the paper’s attention by a city mail carrier who’d found the letter in a mailbox on the corner of Broad and Summer streets.
Dear Santa Claus: I wish you would bring me a big doll and a little doll buggy. I am a little girl just five years old and I would like to have a tea set, a bedroom set, a little stove and a parlor set. I will not ask for much this Christmas, dear Santa Claus, for you brought me so many things last Christmas. Please bring me a little doll, piano and a Chinese baby. I think they are so nice. Well, you must excuse me for not writing a long letter. I expect you will receive a great many letters from little girls. I remain yours. Katie Pearl Hill.
The second letter to Santa published in The Tennessean appeared on Christmas Day,1881, and this one was brought to the paper’s attention by a second-grade teacher who had instructed her pupils to write letters to Santa the previous Friday. This letter was short, sweet and to the point.
Dear Santa Claus: Last Christmas you brought me a pair of boots and some clothes. Please bring me, this year, some nice things and a lot of candy. Pa will get the clothes.
It’s unlikely The Banner’s staff was in any way prepared for what happened after the publication of “Old Santa Clause. The Jolly Old Fellow at Hand with his Beautiful Boat”.
Exactly one week before Christmas Day of 1884, scores of letters to Santa were delivered to 22 North Cherry Street, some brought by postal workers, but many, many others hand-delivered by excited children.
The Banner staff set about transcribing and typesetting as many letters as they could fit within the paper’s four pages, going so far as to say they would “let the children be heard if [we have] to leave out a report about the trouble in Africa or some other country that we care little about.”
Some of the letters published by The Banner were sweet and to the point:
Dear Old Kris – Please bring me a gun, and a hook and ladder wagon, and a fire engine, and a box of candy, and a whole lot of fire crackers, and a “bitar” and a banjo and a little candy hat, and set of men, and I’ll be a good little boy ‘til you come again. Your little friend, Sam Jordan.
Dear Old Santa Clause – I am a nice little girl; bring me a silver knife and fork to be mine; I will mind my ma and sweep up the house, and do bring something for everyone. Spenders, necktie and vest, and you know what to bring to make them all happy Christmas. O, do not forget to bring our old Cook some aprons and hat, for she is good to me and gives me dough when she makes biscuits. Do bring sister a Chatterbox and new earrings. I am getting sleepy. Good night, good old Santa. Fannie Hill.
Dear Old Santa Claus: I am a little boy four years old. I live on Summer Street and my name is John Warner Fisher. I been sick all the winter so far, and I been a good boy. I want you to bring me a drum and a spinning top and a velocipede. I got a little baby brother and his name is Willie Fisher Price. I want you to bring him a rubber doll and a rattle, and bring my sister Ella something for Christmas, too. My little brother can’t talk, so I ask for him. Dear Santa Claus, if it not too much, I would like for you to bring a suit of boys clothes. I am tired of wearing dresses. So good-bye. That’s all. John Warner Fisher.
Some were brimming with enthusiasm and curiosity:
Dear Santa Claus: I have watched eagerly for your coming and I am very glad you have landed with your new boat. I would like very much to see your new pilot because I think a big nice Newfoundland dog is so nice to frolic with. I will tell you what I want. I want a pair of roller skates and a jersey jacket and lots of candies, oranges and nuts. P.S. I would like very much to come with the Banner reporter and see your dear swans. Yours truly, Birdie Danforth.
Dear Mr. Banner – you were so good to tell us about Old Kris and his brand new boat, now would you be gooder and tell us where he lives, ‘cause I do want to get one peep at him, ‘cause I do love him so, ‘cause he brings me lots of things and I want to say “thank’ee, sir,” to him. Yours in haste, Sam Jordan.
Dear Old Santa Claus: When your boat goes up the river to Nashville with its great load of goodies and toys it has to pass Clarksville. You say the Newfoundland dog acts as pilot, but has to swim out in the river and help the swans pull the boat sometimes. I have a good dog named Oscar. I will let him help the swans as they pass Clarksville, and he will swim in the river or act as pilot either. Now, dear Santa, as you pass won’t you remember our little Clarksville boys and girls. If you will, I will be such a good boy hereafter. Please bring me any little thing you wish, but be sure to bring some real nice things for our poor little boys and girls who have no one to help them, and no money to buy for themselves. Your little friend, Cave Johnson.
P.S. – Sister says she has heard of your talking dolls, your walking dolls and dolls that sew on the sewing machines, but she wants a plain doll that won’t get out of fix, because if it does, she will have to send it up the chimney to you and is afraid it might burn up.
And some letters were filled with the charm and honesty of childhood:
Mr. Santa Claus: I am anxious for you to remember me. I am at Scott’s Hotel where I will gladly receive in my stockings anything you may put in. I am now seven years old. The chimneys at the hotel are pretty small holes, and we use stoves altogether. If you won’t tell anybody I will stay awake and let you in the front door. I want a heap of goodies. Papa says that he did not think you would come this Christmas, as times was so dull. Oh, please do come. I want to fool Papa so bad. I love to fool him. I am going to be a good boy and keep my nose clean. Sam Lillard.
Dear Old Kris: Will you please be good enough to bring me a large steamboat with five turkeys on board, a Texas pony and a great big pair of boots with deep red tops. I believe that is all I want this time, and if you have anything left bring all of my little playmates something nice, too. Goodbye my darling Kris. With love and lots of kindness to you, I am yours lovingly, Eugene O. Jones, No 97 Greenville Street.
Dear Old Santa Claus: I heard my papa read the paper this morning and it said you were stopping at the Banner office, so I thought I would write to you. Now dear Santa, bring my little brother, Ernest, and my little sister, Eva, something nice. Our little sister come to live with us since last year. Please bring us some marbles and a French harp and a heap of candy and oranges and some firecrackers to shoot Mrs. Todd with; two little dolls for the little baby. The marbles must be big and glass marbles. Nuts and raisins, too. Bring something nice to set up on the mantlepiece. We have a nice blue room. Some books too with pictures in them, a top and strings and a pop gun. Your little friend, Duncan Baugh. Franklin, Tenn.
Dear Old Chris: I heard that you were getting letters from little boys and girls through the Banner. I didn’t see any from Edgefield, and I thought you had heard that the bridge was down and didn’t know about the ferry. I want a big doll, and please bring one for Martha Whitworth, as I won’t have any fun with mine unless you do, because she is so bad and wants everything I have. I want a doll cradle and a doll buggy, a little red chair for my doll, a work bag and a red chair for myself to sit in and everything else you can spare. Martha has a red chair, but she won’t let me sit on it, but she doesn’t know any better because she isn’t but a baby, and I am a big girl nearly six years old. Your little friend, Annie Jones.
Dear Old Santa Claus. I am a little boy named George and I cannot write so I have got my sister to write for me and I want you to bring me a rocking horse, express wagon, a team of cars, a rubber overcoat so I can play out in the rain, and oranges, nuts and candies. Tell him I am 4 years old and if he don’t want to come down the chimney, I will leave the door open for him. Good-bye. Mrs. Banner man please give this letter to Santa Claus. George.
Dear Old Good Santa Claus. I am a little boy not quite seven years old. I heard my sister read in the Banner that what the children wanted they must write and send it to the Banner, now I want one overcoat with two pockets in it so I can put my hands in the pockets when I am going to Sunday school. I am willing to do without any candy or anything but an overcoat. I have four sisters, and they all have nice cloaks, and Mama says when I start school is time enough for an overcoat, but please bring it Christmas. Most of my little playmates has one. I will take good care of it if you will. I am so glad the good Banner man told me what to do to get one note to you. I will remember him when I get to have money of my own. I will take his paper all the time. Papa takes it now and he says it is the best paper in town. Your loving boy. Rost Russel, 119 Carroll Street.
But then there were other letters, letters that were heartbreakingly real:
Dear Mr. Banner Man, you did not have my name in the list of little girls who Santa Claus was going to visit. Now please do not forget me, for I do want him to come so bad. I want a great big dolly with blue eyes and light hair. I haven’t got any mamma to write to Santa for me. I am 7 years old and go to school every day, and I want a table for my play dishes, and some goodies for my stockings. My auntie says she reckons old Santa will give me a switch and some ashes in my stocking, but please, Mr. Banner Man, don’t let him do that. Good-bye. I wish you a merry Christmas. Lillie Sloan.
Dear Mr. Santee Claws: Will you please bring me a nice big doll and lots of nice presents. Mamma says that I am a bad girl and that you won’t come to our house, But Mr. Santee if you could see how I nurse little sister I know you would come and bring me something, for I think that I’m a good girl for I go to school and work all I can too. Mama said you wouldn’t come, and I thought I would right and ask you to bring me something. I will close, hoping to hear from you soon. Allie D.
Dear Old Cris: Will you please call upon a good little boy by the name of Charlie Jolley – he says he is very poor and can get no coat, shoes and hat because his father has no work and is not able to buy him any. His brother Johnnie has written a letter himself to Cris stating his wants. Charlie says he don’t want much candy, cakes, etc., if he can get some clothing. Please come and see little Charlie, he gets me to write this for him for I am his friend. We are respectfully, Charlie Jolley and Friend.
Dear Santa Claus: Please come and see me. I am 8 years old. Father has no work and I want some clothes. I want crutches for I am lame and some shoes. I go to school first grade. Miss Nellie Fischer is my teacher. Your little boy. Johnnie Jolley.
Whether they knew it or not, The Banner had become the official agent of Santa, and things were about to get interesting.
Copyright 2024 Lori Olson White
When Christmas Came to Nashville continues next week with Part 3.
Would you mind doing me a little favor and clicking the ❤️ button at the bottom of the page? It lets others know this story is worth reading, and helps new readers find me. Thanks!
Be sure to check out Call Me a Bastard, a serialized true story that was first published here on The Lost & Found Story Box beginning in June of 2024.
Are you passionate about the connections between family history and food? If so, I invite you to visit my other newsletter, Culinary History is Family History. I’m filling that space with my own memories of family dinners and school lunches and recipes that have been passed down to me from the people I love most. And, I’m making room for you to do the same! See you soon.
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NOTE: A complete list of sources used in the writing of When Christmas Came to Nashville accompanies Part 4.
And so it began. The letters from kids are charming. Looking forward to part III.