ᴄᴀsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs:
George Strait: Kris Kringle
Tina Fey: Doris Walker
Perry Como: Fred Gailey
Pernell Roberts: Julian Shellhammer
Pope John Paul II: R.H. Macy
Reggie Jackson: Granville Sawyer
Frank Capra: District Attorney Thomas Mara
The Concrete Cowboy: Judge Henry Harper
♪ “Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells! Jingle all the way…!” ♬
Macy’s annual Thanksgiving Day parade is about to sing and dance its way down festive 34th Street, kicking off yet another hectic holiday season with the arrival of Santa Claus. But one character decided to start the celebration early…
Tina: Why aren’t you in your costume – oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were our Santa.
George: Your Santa is intoxicated.
Tina: Oh, no! Not again!
George: Shameful. Absolutely shameful.
Tina (thinking quickly): Could you be our Santa Claus? I mean… have you had any experience playing Santa Claus?
George (chuckling to himself): Not really.
Tina: Oh, please. There just isn’t time to get anyone else.
George: Madam, I am not in the habit of playing spurious Santas.
But as soft-hearted Kris looks around, he reconsiders.
George: Oh, well… the children mustn’t be disappointed.
Tina: Someone get some coffee – black!
George: …with just a little Jack.
Kris is so convincing that Mrs. Walker hires him to pose as Macy’s store Santa pushing overstock in Mr. Shellhammer’s toy department.
While there, Kris is visited by Mrs. Walker’s daughter Susan and friendly neighbor Fred Gailey, much to the disappoinment of Susan’s mother.
Perry (hesitantly): I shouldn’t have brought Susan down to see Santa Claus.
Tina: Now, you’re making me feel like the proverbial step-mother.
Perry: I just didn’t think there was any harm in having her say hello to the old man.
Tina: But I think there is. I tell her Santa Claus isn’t real and she comes here and meets a very convincing old man with whiskers and a cowboy hat.
Perry: So, no myths, no legends, no Saturday Night Live…
Tina: And no fairy tales. I believe we should be completely truthful and up-front with children. A girl spends her whole life waiting for Prince Charming only to wake-up and find that her TV show has been cancelled, no one’s laughing at her jokes, and…
Perry: We were talkng about Susan.
The store’s new Santa has created quite a stir, and Mrs. Walker and Mr. Shellhammer are summoned to the office of R.H. Macy. The room is filled with suits and ties. They enter apprehensively…
John Paul (warmly): Oh, come in! I should be mad and I can’t say I agree with you not informing the Marketing Department, but gentlemen, you can’t argue with success. Imagine, a guitar pickin’ Santa sending all our customers to Billy Bob’s ATF shop.
Some of the button’d down executives appear unsettled and attempt to interupt, but Mr. Macy persists…
John Paul: I admit that on the surface this idea sounds a little Redneck and maybe a bit too Protestant, but given the over-whelming response from the public… notes are pouring from all over – the governor’s wife, the mayor’s wife, The Grand Ol’ Opry, The Vatican… .
As the meeting breaks-up for the evening, Mrs. Walker and Mr. Shellhammer slip away down the hall…
Pernell: He just assumed it was our idea, so –
Tina (downcast): I fired Santa Claus.
Pernell: You what?
Tina: He thinks he really is George Strait.
Pernell: I don’t care if he thinks he’s Dolly Parton!
Tina: He’s crazy, I tell you.
Pernell: But he sang Amarillo by Morning to that little girl. …in Dutch, no less.
Tina: Yeah, well… just because I think I’m an actress, that doesn’t make me Maureen O’Hara.
Pernell (hopefully): Maybe he’s only a little crazy – like Willie Nelson or Patsy Cline.
Tina: We’ll just have to hire another Santa.
Pernell: Oh, no – you heard Mr. Macy: Every time Santa sings, our cash registers ring.
Mrs. Walker and Mr. Shellhammer agree to have Kris visit the store’s notorious psychologist.
George: Reggie! Am I glad to see you.
Reggie: My name is Dr. Sawyer. I’m a psychologist.
George: No, you’re an outfielder with a weakness for sliders.
Reggie: I’m a doctor. See? It says so here on my diploma.
George: Reg – that’s your old Yankee jersey.
Reggie (frustrated): How about we start with a couple of questions, shall we?
George: A mental exam?
Reggie: Uhmmm, No… just a few quick pitches.
George: Okay. How many fingers am I holding up?
Reggie: Two – that’s a curveball.
George: Very good. Now…
Reggie: Wait a minute! The test is for you!
George: Reg, I was only playing Santa as a favor to Tina.
Reggie: That’s interesting. When did you stop believing in yourself?
George: I’ve never stopped…
Reggie: So, you admit it – you are Santa Claus.
George: No, I admit that I’m a Grammy winning Country music artist performing at the Garden on Christmas Eve.
Reggie (scoffing): You? The squealing belt on my Nomad makes better music than you.
George: Well, I’ve hit more home runs than you with the backside of my guitar… in the key of C!
Reggie: Oh yeah! Hit this!
Dr. Sawyer hurls a World Series autographed commemorative horsehide across the room, which with a sharp swack, Kris line-drives straight back knocking Dr. Sawyer completely off his noggin.
…which is not the story he gave Mrs. Walker and Mr. Shellhammer when he finally came to.
Tina: Somebody get some water!
Pernell: Look at that bump!
Reggie: See? I told you. He swings that Gibson like a Louisville Slugger.
Pernell: I’m afraid he’s right.
Reggie: He needs to be sent to the loony bin.
Pernell: And you… to the minors.
On his way to see Mr. Macy, Kris is intercepted and quietly wisked away in a dark sedan to the Bellevue Mental Hospital. Now confined to white walled acoustic cell, Kris receives a visitor…
Perry: Why’d you do it?
George: I don’t know – it was low and inside.
Perry: You sound like Sawyer.
George: He thinks he’s Mr. October! And yet, he’s out there and I’m in here. If that’s normal, I want no part of it.
Perry: You’ve been playing without a helmet.
George: Well, if it was you in here instead of me, Tina’d be out there raising you know what.
Perry: I just spoke to Doris – she knew nothing about this.
George: Well, I’m glad for that. But she had her doubts.
Perry: Okay. But she hasn’t really believed in anything since 30 Rock.
George: Truth is… I’ve been worried about this for a long time. People are more interested in pretty lights and the show – they’ve forgotten the true meaning of Country music.
Perry: What about all those mic-spitting rappers who never even heard of Johnny Cash or Charlie Daniels? What about them? Who’s gonna fill your boots if you pull a fade like St. Nick on Christmas day?
George (mumbling to himself): Hadn’t thought about it quite like that.
Perry: And what about Susan – are you giving up on her?
George: You gonna sing now? This is no Como Christmas Special!
Perry: You can’t let her down, Kris. Who knows… maybe someday Dr. Sawyer will be locked up in here. With Taylor Swift.
George: You’re right. I should be ashamed of myself. Let’s get outa here!
Perry: Now hold on a minute, Kris. You flunked your test, remember?
George: Oh, yeah. That’s right. I told them the father of our country was Hank Williams.
Perry: I can just imagine what they’re thinin’ about you for saying that!
George: You hafta get me outa here, Perry.
Perry: Now Kris, you’re putting me in an awful spot.
George: You can do it – I have faith in you.
Perry: Well, I guess… even If we can’t win, we can at least go down swinging.
George: Now you sound like Dr. Sawyer.
It’s Christmas Eve, and a commitment hearing for Kris begins at New York Superior Court. Kris reads a note slipped to him from Doris: “I believe in you.”
George: That’s not funny, Tina!
Frank: Your Honor – in light of the fact that today is Christmas Eve and that we all have tickets for the George Strait concert tonight at the Garden, I urge the court to sign the Kris Kringle commitment papers immediately.
Perry (entering abruptly): Your honor, there seems to be some undue haste in this case. I want to protect my client’s rights.
Concrete Cowboy: …as do I, Mr. Gailey.
Perry: If Your Honor signs those papers, there won’t be a concert tonight or any night.
Frank (interrupting): Your Honor, the defendant believes that he is George Strait.
Concrete Cowboy: We are all well aware of the opinions of the District Attorney.
Frank: Not only that, but the defendant is dangerous, Your Honor. He assaulted Dr. Sawyer, Macy’s company psychologist.
Concrete Cowboy: That charge was dismissed – the victim was a Yankee.
Frank: Your Honor, the defendant is clearly delusional.
Perry: I suggest that’s merely a matter of opinion.
Frank: Any dime-store Santa who thinks he’s the King of Country Music must be crazy.
Perry: That would be true, if you or I tried to croon a country tune. But if my client is who he says he is, then he’s just as sane we are. …or one of us anyway.
Concrete Cowboy: Just what are you getting at, Mr. Gailey?
Perry: Your Honor, I intend to prove that my client is not Santa Claus, but is in fact the one and only George Strait.
Frank: He’s crazy, too!
Just then, a flurry of uniformed delivery men from the United States Postal Service filed into the courtroom carrying sacks and sacks of letters from children all around the world postmarked simply: “Santa Claus courtesy of the New York Superior Court”.
Poking his head through the avalanche of crayon’d addressed envelopes…
Concrete Cowboy: Since the United States government declares this man to be Santa Claus, this court will not dispute it. Case dismissed.
George: Noooooooooo…!
A joyous courtroom mob quickly empties into the gentle snowfall and celebration of Christmas Eve, triumphantly toting back to Macy’s Department store a reluctant and greatly disgruntled Kris Kringle, as their newly heralded Santa.
Leaving behind a dented six string and Stetson. In the stillness of a suddenly lonely courtroom, the judge clears his throat…
Concrete Cowboy (off-key): ♪ All my exe’s live in Texas… ♬
He Who Must Not Be Named
Advent heralds the birth of He Who Must Not Be Named. Not the birth of X. His Father invites us to celebrate, consecrate, or marvel in silence.
The Promise: Emmanuel
And she shall bring forth a son, and thou shalt call his name Jesus: for he shall save his people from their sins.
Genesis 22:7 And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: Behold the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb? 8 And Abraham said, My son, God will provide himself a lamb.
Right Turn from the Left Lane 