What some people will do for Christmas

PETER BUFFA

It’s not the night before Christmas, but it’s close. This year,

Christmas falls on Dec. 25, which happens to be Thursday, as you may

know.

It’s been a while since we’ve done the Christmas World Tour, so

let us continue our journey to faraway lands and fascinating cultures

to see what the rest of these people are doing that’s new and

different. There are 6 billion of us. We can’t all be shopping.

Let’s see. Where were we? I’m not going to tell you about the real

St. Nicholas again. If you don’t know who he was by now, he is never,

ever coming to your house. But who the heck was Good King Wenceslas?

He was a ruler in Bohemia (that’s the Czech Republic to you) who

lived around the year 900. He wasn’t a king, by the way. He was a

Duke. People always inflate their resumes.

We talked about the Eskimos and how the whole village gets

together on Christmas Day and goes “ummm” over whale meat, caribou,

seal, owl, duck, polar bear and walrus, which is why we’re so glad

they’re up there and we’re down here.

We talked about Denmark and the Christmas pixies that live in the

walls and how you have to put bowls of rice pudding in the attic or

they play tricks on you. Does it have to be rice pudding? I have no

idea. I don’t make the stuff up, OK? I just report it.

If you have to know, the Royal Danish Consulate is on Ventura

Boulevard in Studio City, at (818) 766-0003. Call them and tell them

you want to talk to someone about the Christmas pixies and does it

have to be rice pudding?

Actually, I found a Christmas tradition that is even more

over-the-top than the Danish Christmas pixies. Get your bag. We’re

going to Amsterdam. In Holland, St. Nicholas’ helper is a little

devil named “Black Peter.” The story is that St. Nicholas put the

Devil in chains and made him his slave.

On Christmas Eve, St. Nick checks his list, then grabs Black Peter

by the ear and says, “Listen up, you little beast. I’ll only say this

once. The names with ‘nice’ beside them get gifts and candy in their

shoes during the night. The names with ‘naughty’ beside them get

carried away to a faraway place. Questions?”

Black Peter says “Crystal clear, boss,” and goes to work.

No kid has ever been naughty enough to disappear, of course, but

it does scare the Heineken out of them.

Here’s the best part. Do you know where Black Peter takes the bad

kids? Spain. I’m not kidding -- thousands of Dutch kids living in

fear that they’re going to end up in Spain. Obviously, they don’t get

out much. Do I want the villa in Costa Del Sol with the housekeeper

and the large pitcher of sangria, or the apartment in Amsterdam in

December? Wait. Let me think.

Music. Without it, there is no Christmas. I told you that Oliver

Cromwell banned Christmas carols in England in 1649 because he

thought singing Christmas carols was frivolous and disrespectful.

What a poop.

But here’s one that’ll knock your red and green sparkly snowman

socks off. When “Jingle Bells” was written, it had nothing to do with

Christmas. James Pierpont composed it in 1857, called it “One Horse

Open Sleigh” and wrote it as a Thanksgiving song! You can’t always

get what you want, Jim, but sometimes, you get what you need.

And that brings us to the mother of all Christmas carols. “Silent

Night” is the most popular carol in the world and has been translated

into more than a hundred languages from the original German. Ach, du

lieber!

Speaking of “Stille Nacht,” you can add this to your “Silent

Night” -- Truth or Dare? folder. The lyrics were written by a young

Austrian priest named Joseph Mohr, and the music was composed by

noted organist and composer Franz Gruber, who happened to be a buddy

of young Father Mohr. The hymn was performed publicly for the first

time on Christmas Eve 1818 in Mohr’s parish church, which was called,

ironically enough, St. Nikolas Church.

The legend that’s been kicking around for 200 years or so is that

Franz Gruber was supposed to accompany Mohr on the church organ, but

it had been damaged by mice -- a common problem with old church

organs -- and couldn’t be played.

Music historians now think the “church mouse” story is false,

bogus, phony, and besides that, not true. Father Mohr was well known

for singing hymns during mass while accompanying himself on the

guitar. That was very unusual for the time. Worse yet, Mohr sung in

German instead of Latin, which the parishioners loved, but the powers

that be hated. They dropped a few hints that Mohr lose the guitar and

stick with Latin, but Mohr didn’t get it.

By the time that fateful Christmas Eve of 1818 rolled around,

Franz Gruber didn’t have the heart to tell his young friend that he

was a little too hot to be around, and either Gruber or someone near

him did a little “mouse mischief” of their own on the organ to get

Der Wimpmeister Gruber off the hook.

Alone but undeterred, Joseph Mohr strapped on his guitar, took a

deep breath, and gave the very first rendition of the Christmas carol

that conquered the world. It warmed every heart that heard it that

night, it does the same now, and it’s my Christmas wish for you.

Don’t thank me. Thank Joseph Mohr.

“All is calm. All is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child,

holy infant so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace. Sleep in

heavenly peace.”

I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].