Two Santas, both alike in jolliness

Santa Claus is real.

But it is impossible for Claus, who lives in the North Pole, to both deliver presents on Christmas and listen to what children want for the holiday across the globe. 

To meet those personnel needs, he enlists a small army of helpers. No, not elves; the thousands of people who take up the mantle of the Good Saint Nicholas each year, sliding into red-and-white suits to hear the earnest wishes of children at malls and keep the magic alive. 

It’s unclear who is the one true Santa Claus, a mystery that will remain unsolved. But we wanted to speak with Santas this holiday season about their tricks of the trade. We soon learned that many Santas are elusive. One declined an interview. Others, like the Santas who appear at Valley River Center, require a mutually agreed-upon list of questions.

Lookout Eugene-Springfield spoke with two Eugene Santas — one professional veteran of the Santa trade and one rookie — and their respective Mrs. Clauses to compare notes on what it takes to be a good Santa.

“I live through these little kids’ eyes, knowing that they’re gonna wake up and have a train set or a Barbie,” said the veteran Santa. “You got to be good-natured. You got to have fun. You got to be a kid yourself.”

Embodying Santa 

For one Santa, who was granted anonymity on the basis of preserving holiday magic, being St. Nick is a year-round gig.

Over the years, Santa C. (yes, that’s the first initial of his government name) has worked the entire Eugene Santa circuit, appearing at The Shoppes at Gateway, Valley River Center, and now, The Fifth Street Public Market. 

Even when he’s not wearing his suit, fans often stop him for photos and autographs due to his beard and stature — encounters that his Mrs. Claus calls “Santa sightings” and have occurred everywhere from Disneyland to the grocery store. He keeps his mischievous wink and go-to line (“You are getting so tall!”) on deck. 

He also takes his wish list very seriously. Ahead of the holiday season, Santa C. can be found asking toy store staff about their most popular items of the year so he can ask kids about their wishes in detail. Bikes, Barbies, LEGO and Pokémon are all common asks, Santa C. said.  

Ahead of Richie Peterson’s first year embodying Santa, at People’s Bank during the Downtown Eugene Merchants’ Holiday Night Out event, he wanted to practice. (His wife and Mrs. Claus, Cassandra Snoden-Peterson, declined to provide the couple’s ages to maintain “a little mystery.”) The Bigfoot Beverages driver workshopped his “ho-ho-ho” and “Santa voice” in his truck during deliveries. But his daughter said it sounded creepy, so he skipped it when the time came.

Ahead of next year, he said he’s thinking about taking improv comedy classes to brush up on his on-the-spot Santa skills. An on-hand bag of toys to hand out is also on the list for his 2026 Santa tasks, as is a bodysuit to approximate Santa’s typical belly instead of the pillow shoved into the suit.

“I’m definitely willing to hone and craft my skill,” Peterson said.

The beard and suit

One key difference between Santa C. and Peterson: C’s beard is real. Peterson’s isn’t. 

Santa C. was scouted for the role of St. Nick in Valley River Center 18 years ago because of his white facial hair, which was cropped short at the time. 

Nonetheless, seeing his potential, a stranger encouraged him to join a national group of about 80 naturally bearded Santas. That’s where he got his suit, a custom-made llama hair set that Mrs. Claus estimated weighs about 40 pounds.

He prefers to keep the coat off while meeting children, instead pairing festive shirts with suspenders for a “workshop look.” Kids seem to be more comfortable around him when he’s not wearing a lot of red, he said.

He also chooses Birkenstocks, which are comfortable and show off his holiday socks, over boots. He doesn’t wear white gloves, which are often dirtied by meeting with kids.

The rest of his routine is simple: Mrs. Claus, who said she doesn’t like the “biker dude” look, trims the ends of his bushy beard a few times per year and shapes it before photos with some hairspray.

Peterson, on the other hand, is beardless. He became Santa on a whim. In November, he bought an $80 Santa suit, beard and wig online without any specific plans, but he was looped into joining downtown Eugene’s Holiday Night Out as Santa in People’s Bank. 

For a moment, it looked like he would have premier access to sourcing a high-quality beard. Peterson’s wife and Mrs. Claus, Snoden-Peterson, owns and operates Glamour Girl Beauty & Wigs on Broadway in downtown Eugene. Her supplier was already sold out of Santa beards, but she said she was satisfied with the quality of the beard that came with the costume.

The night of, the fake beard worked well enough — except for when a puppy sat on Peterson’s lap for a photo and licked his face, sliding the beard around. (Luckily, he said, no children were around.)

Peterson was unaware of the divide between naturally bearded Santas and artificial beard wearers until recently, when he started to Google about Santa culture. When asked if he might consider growing a beard to better fit the Santa look, he said that he would, but Snoden-Peterson said no.

Peterson said there’s space for all Santas, natural or not.

“It’s not about my beard,” he said. “It’s about letting the kids have that moment with Santa. So if me having a fake beard lets me get to the kids, that’s what it’s about.”

Talking with children 

The best part of the job, both Santas agree, is interacting with the children. That includes slightly older children on the precipice of aging out of Santa belief. (Who again, in case any children subscribe to Lookout Eugene-Springfield, is a real man.)

Santa C. has a handy explanation: If you see another Santa, they’re just a helper, whereas he is the one true Santa. On the Holiday Night Out, Peterson said he fielded questions designed to poke through his Santa identity, like where his reindeer were. On the roof of People’s Bank, of course.

But for the most part, the children who come through are true believers. 

One year, that belief led to a confrontation for Santa C. After spotting him near the buffet at the Gateway mall, a 4-year-old girl ran over, screaming “SANTAAA!” 

“I want my bicycle back now,’” she told Santa C. in a huff when she approached him, her mother chasing after her. He would later learn that the girl had found her Christmas present under her parents’ bed — a mixup that he quickly explained.

“I had to go back over there and say, ‘Honey, you will get your bike, I just had to take it away to put it together,’” he recalled.

Often, the job is emotional. Santa C. recalled his anxiety when a child with cancer visited him for photos for eight years straight and then, one year, didn’t. 

“I’m easy to cry,” he said. “I always feel so, you know, ‘What can I do?'”

Snoden-Peterson said she couldn’t help but get teary at seeing the joy on kid’s faces, like a group of children on the autism spectrum who started crying when they saw Santa, or a little girl who gave her husband a Santa drawing. Peterson agreed. 

“Sometimes you forget that you’re Santa, and it’s just Richie sitting in the suit,” he said. “Then you’re like, ‘Oh yeah, I’m Santa.’ You get to see how these kids react. I didn’t expect to feel so good about it.”