Noisy Night

No one on Dallas' Swiss Avenue wanted to seem unappreciative or lacking in real Yuletide spirit, but, the neighbors pleaded, the plain fact was that the thing had become a nuisance.

It all started a couple of years ago when Homer Snowden decided it was a shame that Christmas had become so commercial. "People are forgetting the story of Christ's birth and the real meaning of Christmas," said Homer, a Texan through & through, a millionaire wildcatter, and as determined a Christian as ever wore cowboy boots.

All Is Calm. Homer got 6,000 electric bulbs, seven new electric cables, and a public-address system and installed them on the lawn in front of his house, which is about the biggest of all the big houses on Swiss Avenue. He built three papier-mache camels, 24 sheep, nine shepherds, one cow, and the figures of the Three Wise Men and Mary and the Infant Jesus. He mounted the Star of Bethlehem on a 50-ft. steel mast and built a manger. Then he turned on the lights, and the public-address system put out Christmas carols.

People came by the hundreds and then by the thousands. They came from as far away as New Orleans and Oklahoma City, over a million of them. They trampled Homer's grass. They tied up traffic for 20 blocks. Old people came in wheelchairs and one man in an oxygen tent. Sometimes they called up Homer at 3 a.m. to ask him to turn on the lights. "It was worth it," says Homer, "to watch parents with tears in their eyes explain the Christmas story to their children. One little boy told his mother he didn't want to go home until he told the little baby Jesus good night."

But this year the neighbors got riled. What with the traffic and the music, they couldn't talk, think, sleep, or get in & out of their own driveways. "I am sorry to say it," said one, "but I don't believe I want to hear Silent Night ever again."

All Is Bright. Homer would not be moved. "This year I'm going to make it ten times bigger than ever before," he announced defiantly. "I'm going to add angels in fluorescent lights." There would also be 13 more sheep, another dog and shepherd and 1,500 more lights. Blizzards of mail came from supporters, urging him to be steadfast.

"The city doesn't stop football games, do they, just because of the crowds and the noise?" cried Homer. "The people that come to see our scene just stand there quiet and reverent and they don't drink or shout." The city gave up. Said Mayor Wallace Savage: "We can't just pass a law to stop it. Many people would think we were being antireligious."

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