"Christmas is a Sad Season for the Poor" (The Stories of John Cheever)
Much Funnier than A Christmas Carol
Before I talk about the story itself I need to recommend Malachy McCourt's performance. He mines the text for all the humor and pathos. This is one of Cheever's funniest stories and you owe it to yourself to hear the best version.
Christmas stories are tough sells. People only read them in December. Few markets even buy them. Everyone writes them, so the competition is insane. Even worse, “A Christmas Carol” is in the world. Do you really think your drunk Santa story can compete with Scrooge and the bullying ghosts? The fact that Cheever sold his Christmas story is impressive enough. Happily, he also wrote a classic on par with Dickens and Burroughs in Christmas lore.
Dickens’ classic definitely influenced this Cheever here. Cheever used Fezziwig Ball passages like “there were goose, turkey, chicken, pheasant, grouse, and pigeon. There were trout and salmon, creamed scallops and oysters, lobster, crab meat, whitebait and clams.” This story highlights the class divide. No matter how many feasting ghosts of Christmas Present show up, poverty stricken denizens lurk at the edges. Most important - Charlie, the hero, goes on a Scrooge-like journey and learns the true meaning of Christmas.
Christmas is the best day to guilt rich people into giving up their stuff.
Charlie begins his day waking up (“never begin a story with someone waking up” - every Creative Writing teacher) and he's miserable. Of all the millions of people in New York, he's the one who has to get up early. He lives in a rooming house. He's working on Christmas. The day doorman is out sick, so he's going to have to whistle for cabs and skip his lunch. He's thinking about all of those poor children discovering that Santa Claus doesn't like them. Their parents were born too early for credit cards.
Note. This story takes place in the 1940s when elevators required operators. The operator controlled the speed, stops and opened the door. When the elevator operators went on strike in 1945, the shut down the city.
His first customer is Mrs. Ewing wearing a long dress under a fur coat. She's taking her dogs out to poop. She wishes him a Merry Christmas and he tells her his troubles. She sympathizes, but he's still lonely and petulant. When the Waltzers come home from a party, they find it terrible that he lives in a boarding house and they live in luxury. Not terrible enough to invite him to live with him, of course.
By mid-morning, he's embellishing. He creates a crippled wife. He makes up children. He kills off two imaginary children. He's reveling in the majesty of his lies. Before long, the tenants are sharing their wealth. For just a few blessed hours, Charlie benefits from a building full of repentant Scrooges. They give him drinks. They offer him food. They give him more drinks. He receives presents – a husband's alligator wallet, cuff links, glass tea pots, four bottles of aftershave lotion, a dozen steak knives, dressing gowns, children's toys, whatever is lying around.
By early afternoon, he can't even sit down to eat goose without the elevator ringing for someone else to offer him roast beef. Maids are perched in doorways with trays. The Fullers look like they are going to cry. Mrs. Ewing is standing in the hall wearing a negligee, holding riding boots and neck ties. She has been crying and drinking.
By three o'clock, Charlie has 14 dinners, but the bell won't stop ringing. He isn't opening the phantom children's presents, but he is drinking. Drunk with Christmas joy and booze, he gets in the elevator and races it up and down the building. When Mrs. Gadshill gets in on the 8th floor, he's still racing the thing. Mrs. Gadshill doesn't appreciate his exuberance. In fact, she ends up on the floor crying.
Yes. Charlie gets fired.
As he gathers up his bounty, he thinks of the landlady's three skinny children. Surely, they could use some toys. Only the landlady has enough toys from other charitable types. By the time Charlie arrives, the landlady is rushing out the door to give charity before Christmas is over. Give on Christmas and you're the best human ever. There's no point in giving charity after Christmas. That's just obligation.
If you’re feeling charitable, I’m behind on my rent. Please help.
For more Christmas stories, check out Sugarplum Zombie Motherfuckers.