The Pantagraph from Bloomington, Illinois • Page 19

(Tlje gaily flantagrap!) FRIDAY, DEC. 25, 1981 SECTION 1 Taking a pause with the real Santa Claus BILL FLICK PANTAGRAPH STAFF r' i- t- Pantograph photo'AL POOOORbKl Three-year-old Jackie Garner of Cooksville tugs the real Santa's real beard. And it hits you when he speaks. "Christmas is a spirit and so is Santa Claus," he says, evoking logic that was seemingly lost years ago when commercialism took over with its blinking lights, the post-Christmas sales before Christmas and 49-mph shoppers beating the rush. "Santa is the spirit of season, of giving and loving.

And I have that spirit. That's why I'm Santa Claus." HE FITS ALL the stereotypes of a Santa. Willis looks like him real white beard, protruding stomach, paunch nose. He acts like him slight waddle in his walk, ho-ho-ho's well. He has believers "Daddy, Daddy," yelled a kid across Eastland's center court the other day, "this is the real one, his beard doesn't come off." And the IRS, the all-knowers of truth, justice and the American way, believe in him.

Because when Willis files his 1040, he lists "department store Santa" as his only employment because it is. His best trait? It isn't in his looks or his actions or in his tax statements. It's in his mind. "Oh, I'm not really Santa PROFILECENTRAL ILLINOIS- Visualize the headlines and the David Brinkleys of the network-set interrupting their programs for a special news bulletin. Imagine the wire stories and the typesetters clacking away as the story envelops the country and the 111.

(AP) Dismissing centuries of thought that Santa Claus is a myth, a make-believe character for young children, a newspaper reported here today that Santa 'is a very real person' and lives in the twin cities of Bloomington-Normal. "The Bloomington Pantagraph identified the 'real' Santa as Elmer Willis, 76, a retired coal yard manager who loves children, spends his free time cutting up Sears, Roebuck Co. catalogs and lines his kitchen walls and cabinets with cut-outs of Ronald Reagan, Cheryl Tiegs and Rita Jenrette, among others. "The newspaper quoted Willis as saying: 'There are four Santas at the Eastland Shopping Center, but I the only real one. I'm the real Santa No film producers haven't called for a remake of a Christmas classic and renamed, it "Miracle on Empire Street" not yet at least.

The National Enquirer has not bannered it Claus: His Untold And The Jinglettes, those oft-forgotten Lennon Sister sound-alikes who brought you the song "Here Comes Santa Claus have yet to dub in the new words "Here Comes Elmer Willis. But beware and be ready. This story could hit the streets any day now. THE NAME IS Elmer Willis and he claims to be the "real" Santa Claus. You may have already seen him at Eastland or on the street, cruising in his car or working his yard on Bloomington's east side.

Or you may have seen this white-bearded, rotund one standing at The Pantagraph's second floor reception desk a few weeks ago, his arms loaded with letters and gift requests from his believers. "Thought you'd probably want to see these letters I've received and get the story on what children want for Christmas this year," he said, holding up several crayon-scrawled lists. "That's a possibility, sir. And I must say you certainly look like a real Santa." "I am. I'm the real one." "You're the real Santa Claus, the one and only?" "Yessir." "Uh huh, and my name's Carson Pirie Scott." "Glad to meet you, Mr.

Scott." Now hang on for one moment before assuming that (a) this is another Christmas column by another smart-penned, column-writing skeptic or (b) Willis is a first-class kook who was a fruitcake in his first life or (c) all of the above. Granted Any guy who walks into a newspaper office to show off letters and proclaim he's the "rear' Santa does sound a bit strange. "A lot of people think I am strange, he retorts. Granted A 76-year-old who clips catalogs and magazines and lines his home's kitchen walls with the cut-outs not to mention the six photo albums he's filled since running out of wall space does sound like he's singed his whiskers one too many times over an open fire. "Shoot, my wife thinks I'm totally nuts," he retorts about his spare-time hobby.

But don't take Elmer Willis for granted. Shrug off the initial skepticism of his self -proclaimed identity and forget about his unusual hobbies and, somehow, the unbelievable begins to happen. You begin to believe in him. Claus," Willis admits, speaking in the sanctity of his own living room where no one else can hear. "But I'd like to think I am.

Santa is a spirit and I have it and not many people do anymore. I love children and I love to give and that's what Santa and Christmas is all about." One day recently, he was playing his role and identity to the hilt. The mall was packed and a long line had formed near Santa's headquarters, a decorated area at Eastland where the kids can talk to Santa and, at the same time, have their pictures taken 3x5 color glossies at 5 bucks a crack. But no talking was going on and no pictures were being taken. Santa, alias Elmer Willis, had disappeared.

Gone. Vanished. He was nowhere in sight. "Where is he?" the picture-taker ajiked. "Where's Santa?" a child asked.

"Where in the hell is Elmer?" one management person asked. Elmer, it seems, had grown a bit disenchanted with the long lines and the flashing bulbs and the commercialism. And he'd picked himself out of his chair when no one was looking, grabbed his huge box of candy canes and left, off to do some "real" Santa Claus ing in the "real" spirit of the season. They caught up with him finally he was in the J.C. Penney store, talking to children, calming the crying ones and passing out the canes.

Management sent him back to his station. Later, he escaped again this time for candy cane passing at Baskin-Robbins. But once again, they sent him back. "Elmer tends not to stay in his chair," says one of his helpers, asking not be named. "I don't know if it's true or not, but I've heard that they won't let him leave his chair now for any reason.

Even if he has to go to the bathroom, a male must escort him." SOMEHOW, I FAIL to see any reason or logic for that. This guy believes; he's a breath of fresh air in a stale, stampeded world taken over by cornmercialistic endeavors. If Elmer Willis isn't the "real" Santa, he ought to be. And they ought to let him live it. But it does answer one question.

And it brings to mind another wire story, potentially a bigger expose than the one that began this whole charade and column. Imagine the wire stories. III. (AP) -Dismissing centuries of thought that those noises you hear on the roof Christmas Eve are eight tiny reindeer, The Bloomington Pantagraph revealed today that the noises are really Santa Claus and an escort looking for an outhouse." 1 i 'sfc. nib i Willis at home in his cot-out lined kitchen.

Christmas glitters in crystal "When I was through in the other room and walked past him again on the way out. he still didn't seem to notice me. I guess I fell Into the category of a tent maker." With another Iranian, though, the one In Bel-Air who bought the 8 foot crystal Christmas tree last year. Meer stands tall althuugh that transaction wasn't without difficulty. Sticker shock.

"He kept admiring the tree in the showroom and walking in and out. each time mentioning a different price for It. I kept telling him we were a one price store. "Believe it or not. there were three days of this.

The Iranian finally shouted: I can't do business this way! I have to get Meer Impulsively reached Into his poc ket, handed the man a $100 bill and that cemented the deal Not only that. It Is a continuing pact. For a $5,000 annual service contract, the designer erects the tree again in the home right after Thanksgiving, dismantles it In January, and packs the crystal to await the next holiday season. The $68,000 tale price tag on this year's model (which Includes the star on top) is the same as last year's Meer'i little contribution to holding the line on inflation. But chandeliers are what he Is Caesar of.

prowling his twinkling Courant wonderland, remembering how it all started 18 years ago. "On one of my trips to Europe I happened to make the acquaintance In Vienna of one of the foremost makers of crystal. I wound up coming back with 27 cases of It. which I had to store In my garage The car had to stay In the driveway. "A lot of the crystal was Strass.

which Is the best available anywhere. Until then I had been designing furniture, flatware, packages. I decided to try It took him four months to get the hang of It. as It were, but he manag'-d to hand make six chandeliers and attached them to the beamed ceiling of his home. "I threw a little party to show what I had accomplished, and wound up being asked by different guests to sell all six," the designer said.

There followed the opening of a modest showroom solely for chandeliers "but in those days, aside from my first night success. I found I couldn't give them away. They just weren't being accepted." The old values. Meer said, were considered square. "Chandeliers stood for periods, and that was out." he lamented "People were tossing their beautiful old gai lamps into their garages." Hut times change "In the last few years we have been getting a lot of young people as customers." the craftsman said.

"The home has again become an important place, the anchor of security, and what grandma had is being cherished again." One of Meer's first breaks In getting the chandelier accepted in modern American society was In getting It accepted by the classy store In San Francisco during the mid-60s. "I filled my station wagon with eight of them, went Inside the store and In the heaviest Austrian accent I could muster I told the buyer what I had driven up with We walked outside, I placed them all on the sidewalk, and not only did he buy all eight, he placed an order for 18 more." Meer feels that broke the Ice, because the store ran big advertisements on the chandelien, they told well, and suddenly the fixtures were fashionable. Entertainers started wanting them. The late Peter Sellers was the first such customer, requiring one for his bedroom. 101 Angela Timat LOS ANGELES It Is hardly out of a Norman Rockwell painting: the humble family gathered around lis Christmas tree, made entirely of Austrian crystal, at a cost of $68,000.

But there is such a creation In the home of an Iranian living in the posh neighborhood of Bel-Air. courtesy of the skills of Ernst Meer, and trees aren't even his specialty. Meer. by his own description, is the crystal chandelier king of Los Angeles. Not really by accident either.

"I am a native of Austria, he said. "I remember that over there the affluent have chandeliers in their horse stables. There Is even a butcher shop in Vienna that has a chandelier." So perhaps It was Inevitable that one day the man from Austria after obtaining U.S. citizenship and pursuing a career in real estate and movie making would wind up creating chandeliers for such people as Elizabeth Taylor. Barbara Mandrell.

Frank Sinatra. Henry Mancinl. Bjorn Borg. Dean Martin. Liberace.

Diana Ross. Dinah Shore, Debbie Reynolds and the shah of Iran. Liberace, whose Las Vegas home, the designer said. Is dripping with chandeliers, finally Insisted he just had to have one Inside his Rolls Royce. "I made It 61 inches high and put it over the rear sea's." Meer said.

"It cost him $4,200 and operates on a rheostat, for dimming purposes." Meer also has provided his specialty for yachts and airplanes Then there was the late shah of Iran, another life whom the local designer was the light of. "He wanted a crystal chandelier In a certain room In the palace, and In no time at all I found myself in Tehran being driven by limousine from my hotel. "The ihah'l wife greeted me and asked me to follow her We passed through a huge room and he was sitting bent over some paperwork at a desk. He never looked up to acknowledge me. 1.