The following is the last of three unauthorized copies of columns written by John Coit. This material is copyrighted by the Rocky Mountain News. You should probably read this entry and the other two columns first.

Spirit catches up to The Great Claus

Dec. 3, 1985

You better not pout, you better not cry

You better watch out, I'm telling you why

- "Santa Claus is Coming to Town"

THE months flew, I guess.

It was time again for The Great Claus to make another appearance, and the weather was appropriate enough. Next to Colorado, the North Pole must be like Miami Beach.

The great red suit showed up Wednesday with a note from the folks at Rent-a-Santa.

"You did such a great job last year at the opening of Decemberfest at the Denver Center for the Performing Arts that they want you to do it again."

I put the note down on my desk and closed my eyes.

O Spirit, come again this year. You have never failed me.

There was no response, of course; there never is. The Spirit comes when it will, and usually in the nick of time, so to speak.

I went home and told The Kid we were doing the Santa gig again this year. He yawned.

"I don't want to. It's boring."

He turned his attention back to the Boomtown Rats on MTV.

"Hey, come on, Blood,"I said. "You used to love the Santa Claus deal."

I suppose I can't bounce the mythology off him any more.

As ever, Randy Thomas, who got me in a jam last week with this "new man" routine, would become Santa's elf. He claims to get The Transformation, too.

The Transformation is when the Spirit takes over. I learned about it from an old cracker named C.S. Blount, who played Santa Claus every year at the Crabtree Mall in Raleigh, N.C. ...

Sunday dawned bitter cold. I stayed in bed most of the day, thinking about what I had to do that night, and wondering if the Spirit would come on time.

I got to the Rocky at 5 p.m., and Thomas and I put on our costumes. We were driven to the Tabor Center to be picked up by one of the horse-pulled carriages and taken to the DCPA Galleria.

I waited. The Spirit hadn't come.

The city was almost crystal in the bitter cold that came with darkness. The horse's nostrils gave off plumes of steam as he trotted down 17th Street.

The Spirit came then, as the carriage passed a gaggle of children who could see the passengers.

"Santa Claus, Santa Claus," they yelled, jumping up and down.

Santa Claus waved back. He wasn't in a chuckling mood for some reason.

Two toy soldiers met The Great Claus and his elf, and marched them to a side door of the DCPA complex. The Colorado Children's Chorale was singing "Here Comes Santa Claus" as the royal party made its way into the crowd.

He gave away candy, and stopped to talk, especially to the little ones with terrified faces.

When the Christmas tree was lighted, The Great Claus and his elf made their way to an exit, but several children had rushed over to give him their heart's desires.

One wanted a robot. Another wanted a Rainbow Brite doll. Another wanted a new bike.

And, finally, a little girl with large, dark eyes, full of faith, her expression set in a determined way, was last in line.

She wanted a doll, she said. And something more.

"My mommy is so sad. Can you make her happy?"

Why is she sad? asked The Great Claus.

"Because Daddy isn't ever coming home again."

The Great Claus felt like he'd been hit by a train. The Spirit had no answer. C.S. Blount had told him these were the hardest questions of all.

"No, darlin' " said Claus. "Santa can't make your mommy happy."

She nodded, her acceptance total.

"I love you, Santa," she said.

The Claus picked her up and gave her a hug.

"Santa loves you, too."