Christmas in May

Sophie Shanks is a cheerful, God-fearing Negro woman whose only contact with luxury is her night job as a floor polisher in Cincinnati's Netherland Plaza Hotel. She gets home from work in the morning in time to send the eldest of her nine children off to school, and to greet husband James as he leaves their tenement flat for his job on a city garbage truck.

One night last week, 36-year-old Sophie Shanks found a letter waiting for her at the hotel. "Dear Mrs. Shanks," it said, "When I was in Cincinnati this spring my helpers informed me that you are a deserving lady who works hard on the night shift . . . and that you have a tough time raising your nine children . . . but you never complain ... So here's a check for $100." The letter and check were signed "Santa Claus."

Sophie Shanks had no idea who Santa Claus was, and the check, drawn on a Los Angeles bank, gave only an incomplete clue. The bank could only say that there really is a Santa Claus, but it was honor-bound not to tell his name. With some misgivings (it feared that Santa Claus' signature was too easy to forge), the bank had opened the account for a Californian who drew from it regularly to send gifts to Sophie Shankses around the country. Said Bank Manager Frank K. Galloway: "Santa Claus is a reputable citizen who wants to do nice things and has just chosen this way to do it."

Mrs. Shanks, happily parceling out nine new pairs of shoes to her children, had her own theory: "I guess the good Lord sent it to me."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.