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Santa Claus was stripped down to his red T-shirt, black gym shorts and high white socks, lounging on his king-sized bed at the Hotel Boulderado.
A Santa for our times, there's a leather cuff bedecked with jingle bells over on a chair, but also an iPad on the dresser, not far from a smartphone plugged in for a recharge. Mrs. Claus is seated by the window in an easy chair, knitting in the diffuse light of the waning afternoon.
His hair and ample beard gone snow white, and many seasons of delivering the spirit of the season to young and old under his wide hand-tooled leather belt, he pondered the question: When will he retire?
It elicits something very close to a ho-ho-ho.
Then Santa Claus said: "Probably when it isn't fun anymore."
Mrs. Claus, as would prove to be the case more than a few times, had more to say about that.
"I would say he never quits," she said. "There have been so many kids this week saying, 'We came to see the real Santa. And that is you. We just went to see the fake Santa last week, so we wanted to see the real Santa this week.'"
Hanging up the gift sack and parking the sleigh permanently was a distinct possibility for Bruce Arnold, who is 69 and lives with his wife in Aurora when he is not busy supervising his workshop at the North Pole.
Having visited the Pearl Street Mall at the invitation of Downtown Boulder Partnership since 2007 for pre-Christmas visits, he became so sick from Hepatitis C that in 2010 he was not able to serve that year as the city's Santa at the holidays, and in March 2011 he found himself at University of Colorado Hospital for a liver transplant, performed by Dr. Michael Wachs.
That came after several hospitalizations for liver failure in the preceding year. In his final hospital stay prior to the transplant, Arnold said, "They told me, 'You're not getting out of here without a new liver.' I was about a week away from kicking it."
It was bad enough, Arnold recalled, that he was suffering encephalopathy — overall brain dysfunction, including hallucinations, caused by the infection poisoning his body.
Seven years later, he still recalls the dismay of watching Christmas 2010 from the sidelines as he battled illness and hoped for the transplant that would give him another chance at life.
"It was difficult," he said. "I'd watch Mrs. Claus go off to be with the substitute 'me,' and it was difficult seeing that. But it was also nice to know that we did have good friends who could take over, and keep it going so that it didn't disappoint a lot of kids and a lot of the adults as well."
"I fully believed and hoped and knew that he would get better," said Mrs. Claus, 68, known alternately as Margaret Arnold, Bruce Arnold's wife. "This is our way of giving back."
His 2011 return to the Pearl Street Mall — as well as to all the many other stops that Santa Claus makes in the Christmas season -— gave him tremendous satisfaction.
"It was fantastic," he said. "It took awhile to start feeling better and well enough to really get out there and do something. But I did, and during that time I was out, I had been upgrading, updating the costuming and working on the website, and working on all of that, so that when it got to putting on the suit and being Santa again, it was just amazing how great it was.
"That was one of the big things I missed — being with the kids, seeing the smiles on their faces, looking in their faces, them being amazed to see the real Santa Claus sitting there. That had been a difficult thing to miss."
'Bring back my grandpa'
On a recent Saturday at the Pearl Street Mall, a steady stream of families passed through the Downtown Boulder Visitor Information Center for a few moments with Santa Claus. The children pulling along their parents — or being prodded gently by mom and dad — exhibited the full range of emotions from something resembling mute terror to the bold inquisitiveness of pint-sized prosecutors.
Santa Claus, armed with quick wits, abundant good cheer and well-schooled in the mantra ASIC — Always Stay in Character — handled it all with aplomb.
Ashton Bergquist, 7, of Centennial, had many questions, starting with, how did Santa arrive that morning? By sleigh, of course. Well, did Rudolph come?
"Of course. He had to guide the sleigh," he is told. "Up around Canada, it got pretty foggy, so we needed him, to help get through that."
And where is the sleigh now? Parked at Buckley Air Force Base, the soldiers put in charge of tending the reindeer. OK then, how many elves does Santa have? Thousands. How many machines does it take to produce so many gifts?
"The elves handle that," Santa Claus said. "That's micromanaging, and I don't micromanage."
With Boulder's Lights of December Parade ramping up later that day, a volunteer passed through the information center, a young man named Donald Keens, of Broomfield. He is well beyond the age for sitting on Santa's knee.
Keens, a volunteer who would be working crowd control that evening, confessed, "I haven't been good this year."
Not missing a beat, Arnold said, "I knew that."
Because, of course, there's that infamous list of the naughty and nice.
Keens lobbed another Santa-heckling volley.
"Hey Santa, didn't you get arrested a few years ago for breaking and entering?"
Arnold deflected that jibe with a remark about how although taking advantage of the planet's many time zones is one key to his delivery strategy, "Magic is really the big thing."
Even with the special wizardry of Kris Kringle up his sleeve, there are holiday wishes not even he can deliver. His Boulder mailbox is bursting with letters children have brought with them. Many ask for a full range of items easily enough found in stores. Others are more problematic, such as a "missing blanket."
Arnold said that's not the half of it, when it comes to wish-list entries on which even Santa can't deliver.
"I asked a little girl a few years back what she wanted for Christmas, and she said, 'All I want is for my dad to quit hitting my mom.' And there was one who said, 'All I want is for you to bring back my grandpa.'"
For Santa Claus, speechless is not an option.
"I said, 'I am so sorry to hear that he has passed away. But, you've just got to keep going and keep living life, and being happy. That's what your grandpa would have wanted.'"
Being Santa Claus does not put you in the miracles business.
"That's not what Santa does," Arnold said. "He makes toys and brings presents and brings love and happiness. Unfortunately, I can't bring back your grandpa, and unfortunately, I can't stop your dad from hitting your mommy."
'I can't let go'
Boulderites are often prone to seeing their community as unique, and Santa Claus, from his many visits to the city, is not one to disagree.
"It's different," Arnold agreed. "And you get more interesting characters."
His wife said: "And you get children from other countries. And maybe the experience of Santa in their country might be different. So, in talking to them, it's very interesting to make comparisons ... And it feels more personal, up here."
"It feels like home, up here," Bruce Arnold jumped in. "It feels magical. And we are treated so well, up here."
The couple has no children of their own. But their ease with each young person who comes to see them flows as effortlessly as snowflakes on a winter wind.
"You've been eating your vegetables! ... You've gotten so big! ... You be nice to your brother, all right? ... I've bet you've got a lot of friends!"
It's a performance. However, it's an act that plays well not only to children, but to those who still cherish the mystery of the season that fueled the dreams of their own youth.
Arnold was just about finished with a recent visit to Pearl Street when 31-year-old Kristen Huber, of Boulder, a late arrival, pleaded for one quick picture with Santa Claus. Of course, he complied.
"I still believe in the spirit of Santa and what he represents during Christmas time," Huber confided once a photo was secured.
"It's a little piece of my childhood that I can't let go of."
Charlie Brennan: 303-473-1327, brennanc@dailycamera.com or twitter.com/chasbrennan
