Pubdate: Fri, 24 Dec 2004
Source: Lawrence Journal-World (KS)
Copyright: 2004 The Lawrence Journal-World
Contact: http://www.ljworld.com/site/submit_letter
Website: http://www.ljworld.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/1075
Author: Richard Gintowt
Bookmark: http://www.mapinc.org/hemp.htm (Hemp)

BAD-ISH SANTA

Cannabis Claus Chris Hartman Doubles As Pro-Hemp Humorist And Holiday Helper

It's just days before Christmas and Santa has been spotted near
Centennial Park.

Horns honk and children gawk at the jolly man in the plush red suit as
he waves to passing cars. With his thick, smoke-stained beard and
bulbous tummy, this street-side Santa looks like an archetypal St.
Nick, built tough to withstand hordes of lap-sitting cherubs.

On this mild Thursday afternoon, Santa had planned on going downtown
to pass out candy canes and business cards. But now he is tired, in
part to a hereditary heart condition, which also prevents him from
holding a steady job. As he saunters back into his duplex, he passes
his sleigh: a beat-up gray pickup truck stickered with slogans like
"It's the duty of every patriot to protect his country from his
government."

Inside the duplex, Santa's bachelor pad is adorned with Frank Zappa
and Grateful Dead posters. A Cheech and Chong record -- miraculously,
with rolling paper still intact -- adorns Santa's coffee table. Four
Christmas stockings hang from a bookshelf, three of which bear the
names of Santa's cats: Elvis, Mojo and S*head. The other one simply
reads "Harley-Davidson."

Santa strips off his coat, revealing a bulging pair of denim overalls
and thick arms covered in tattoos (his back -- still hidden under a
K.C. Chiefs T-shirt -- is plastered with pin-up-girl tats). On his
lower left arm, a rainbow-colored tattoo: the Chinese character for
hemp.

As his cats sway kamikaze on a salvaged climbing post, Santa flips
through two scrapbooks titled "Twisted Santa Stuff Vol. 1 and 2." The
books display a hodgepodge of X-rated Santa lore that would give any
parent pause: dirty Santa jokes culled from porno mags, explicit
versions of traditional Christmas poems, naked porn stars with
ornaments hanging from their unmentionables and postcards of Santa
smoking giant spliffs.

But Santa's favorite clip is an 1884 Thomas Nast illustration of a
little girl talking to Santa on the phone.

"If you look at this picture and you know anything about smoking
accessories, you know what Santa has in his left hand is a
turn-of-the-century opium pipe," he says. "That's part of why he's so
jovial, because he's got a buzz."

Emily Post of pot'

To his closest friends and family, Santa is Chris Hartman -- a
self-described "happy hippy biker" with boundless generosity. He's the
kind of guy who would gladly get out of bed at 2 a.m. to deliver gas
to stranded friends; who would surprise buddies by showing up at their
bands' out-of-town gigs; or who would gladly offer strangers his last
$20 and floor for the night.

But to thousands of potheads and hemp advocates across the country,
Santa is Simon Worman, author of "The Original Unofficial Joint
Smoking Rules." Dubbed the "Emily Post of Pot" by High Times magazine,
Hartman has sold more than 5,000 copies of his self-published book
through mail-order and independent retail (mostly head shops).

The book's 75 rules of ganja-torching etiquette (example: "If you're
in the middle and you have to keep passing the joint back and forth,
you are allowed to double toke the joint.") have become sort of an
underground Bible for blunt blazers.

"I decided if Tommy Chong can make a living laughing at weed, why
can't I?" Hartman says. "It gave me a direction ... My goal now is to
become a writer."

When talking about his book, Hartman's raspy, smoke-weary voice nearly
buckles from overexertion. In between coughs and phlegm-clearing
hacks, his chubby face lights up with excitement as he explains which
corporations and political figures are to blame for keeping marijuana
illegal. He cites passages from Jack Herer's "The Emperor Wears No
Clothes" -- a book dedicated to exposing government-perpetuated
marijuana myths -- with the ease of a university scholar.

"The more I learned, the angrier I got," Hartman says. "The truth is
it's a natural plant. Doctors are finally coming out saying it is good
medicine."

Hartman is quick to add that he doesn't endorse marijuana use for
everyone. His main hang-up, he says, is that the drug is "no more
harmful than aspirin" and actually much safer than alcohol.

"We have thousands of people a year die from alcohol and
tobacco-related deaths and they're totally legal," he says. "When
you're a kid, your mom tells you not to lie, because the truth always
comes out. And I think that it should and eventually will be legalized
when people realize the truth."

Magic show

The first time Chris Hartman felt the magic of Santa Claus, he was
doing 70 mph down a Florida interstate. Dressed in full Santa gear
(including a red velvet Santa cap fashioned from a helmet), Hartman
and his elf buddy were joy riding down the highway on their Harley
motorcycles.

"This car went by us with like four or five kids in a station wagon
and it was like a slow-motion thing where the magic in each kid's face
was almost eerie," Hartman says. "It was like a spiritual awakening."

The drive-by wasn't the first time Hartman had dressed up as Santa
Claus, but it was the first time he truly felt the "Christmas magic"
(Hartman repeatedly uses this term when discussing his experiences).
In fact, it was the first time he felt any joy associated with
Christmas since his mother, Mary, passed away on Dec. 23, 1986.

"I went to the funeral, and when we got home there were Christmas
presents under the tree from Mom," says Hartman, who lost touch with
his father after his parents divorced when he was 5. "The next few
years, whenever Christmas would roll around, I'd get really sad."

So Hartman began playing Santa Claus as a way to bring happiness back
to Christmas. He led a motorcycle motorcade in a 'Toys for Tots'
fund-raiser organized by a Florida biker's association that he
belonged to. He also began visiting the homes of friends at Christmas,
surprising their children with personal visits.

In 1991, Hartman moved to Lawrence and brought his Santa suit with
him. A few years later, while visiting an elderly blind woman at a
local nursing home, Hartman felt the "Christmas magic" a second time.

"As soon as I walked in I'm like, 'Ho, ho, ho, Santa's here' and
she's like, Oh, you're not Santa; you're Jim from the kitchen,'" he
recalls. "I went over and I took her hand and I made her touch my
beard and I said, is that really what you think?' And the second she
touched my beard, her eyes got as big as silver dollars and that
presence was there again -- she truly believed at that moment that I
was Santa Claus.

"And at that moment, I truly believed I was Santa Claus."

Think fast

On a Friday afternoon in December, Hartman is visiting a preschool
that has hired him for a personal Santa appearance. In the school's
playroom, he calmly fields questions from 12 starry-eyed moppets.

"Where's your sleigh?" asks one particularly inquisitive
4-year-old.

For a veteran Santa, this question hardly presents a challenge. Santa
calmly answers that the sleigh is at the North Pole being packed. But
the child is persistent: "Then how'd you get here?" he asks.

"Magic," Santa responds. "And if I give away the secret, the magic
doesn't work."

For the moment, this seems to satisfy the overzealous tot. But Santa's
work is hardly done; he still has to explain why he can't give
reindeer as gifts.

When Santa leaves, the screaming children tear open their gifts in an
exuberant flurry. Their beaming faces and joyful outbursts indicate
that Santa has done his duty.

The teacher who hired Hartman is enamored with Santa's performance.
But when asked about Hartman's book, he begins to feel uncomfortable.
He expresses concern that being associated with Hartman in the media
could get him in trouble with his boss or the kids' parents.

Suddenly, it becomes clear that Santa and Simon Worman cannot live
entirely separate lives.

"I don't try to hide one from the other," Hartman says. "I don't jump
right up and say, "Hey, I'm a pot guy and I'm doing Santa,' but I'm
not trying to avoid the issue either ... I'm proud of who I am."

So proud, in fact, that when he printed business cards for personal
Santa appearances a couple of years ago he didn't think twice about
putting his e-mail address --  -- on the card. He got
two gigs for $50 apiece, one of which skipped out on the bill.

"How do you stiff Santa Claus?" he wonders.

The miracle worker

The people who call on Hartman's services, however, do so for one
simple reason: he plays a good Santa.

"I always wondered why Chris didn't really exploit the Santa thing,
bcause he could be the best Santa out there," says Joe Comparato,
whose 4-year-old daughter, Mia, has been visited by Hartman at
Christmas. "He has more fun than the children do; I really believe
that."

Parish Sneegas and his 3-year-old daughter, Maya, have also
experienced Hartman's Christmas magic firsthand. Each year, Maya
receives a Christmas card from "Santa."

"She makes everybody who comes over read it to her four or five
times," Mr. Sneegas says. "Chris doesn't have a lot of money, but he
always finds a way to take care of people."

This year, Hartman had gigs lined up at Bucky's Drive In and the
Willamstown volunteer fire department. He'll have Christmas dinner
with a friend's grandchildren and probably go to bed early on account
of the narcolepsy-inducing drugs he takes to sooth his heart condition
(pills, not pot).

Hartman also made his annual appearance at The Flamingo Club, a north
Lawrence nudie joint where he frequently grabs lunch ("Best
home-cooked food in town," he claims).

If he's lucky, he might get a reprise of a second type of Christmas
"magic" he discovered years ago during an impromptu visit to a Florida
strip club: free lap dances.

"The main reason I do it is for the children," he says. "And then,
after the kids go to bed, there's bigger girls who want to be on the
naughty list."
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MAP posted-by: Larry Seguin