It’s regarded as one of the most famous editorials ever written.
It first appeared in a New York newspaper, The Sun, in 1897. The unsigned essay was in response to a letter sent by an 8-year-old girl named Virginia, who asked, “Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?”
A poignant testimony to the power of goodness, the 416-word masterpiece was written by Francis Pharcellus Church, who was credited after his death in 1906. At the request of its readers, the The Sun in 1924 would begin republishing it each Christmas until the newspaper’s demise in 1950.
Newspapers across the world, including The Enquirer, have continued the tradition to this day, making it arguably the most reprinted editorial in history.
“Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus,” Church wrote to begin the second paragraph. And I can vouch for him. I looked Santa right in the eyes in the riverside village of Cleves.
Have gun will travel
I never met my paternal grandfather, the man whom I’m named after. He died before I was born while my father was still high school.
Beryl W. Love (the first) worked for the state highway department in Pennsylvania. He was an outdoorsman’s outdoorsman by all accounts, and he knew his way around the woodshop despite having no formal training as a carpenter. If he set his mind to making something, he simply would figure it out.
His two hobbies came together when he acquired a well-worn Springfield Model 1892 Krag-Jorgensen rifle. Used during the Spanish-American War – famously by Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders – Krags were the first bolt-action rifles commissioned by the U.S. Army. Their military service was short-lived, but they became popular hunting rifles in the in the early 1900s.
My grandfather painstakingly restored his Krag, replacing the damaged stock with curly hard maple he carved into shape by hand. It became his deer rifle.
Earlier this year, my dad decided the rifle – stored for more than 50 years in a gun cabinet – would look nice above my fireplace.
“You’re a lot like your namesake,” he often tells me.
So he gave me the rifle. And I proudly hung it over the fireplace.
'I know a guy'
One of the things I’m grateful for is that my son has grown up knowing his grandfather. He’s named after him. And the boy was just as excited as I was to hold the rifle and feel a connection to the past. But he had more on his mind than nostalgia.
“Do you think we could shoot it?” he asked.
In that moment it came to me. How cool would it be to surprise my dad on Christmas with trip to the range to fire the Krag with his son and grandson – in honor of his father.
I learned to shoot at a young age, but I don’t know enough about old rifles to determine if one is safe to fire. So I asked Jason Hoffman, The Enquirer’s sports editor and resident firearms expert, if he had a recommendation on where I could take the rifle to have it inspected. Without hesitation, he said, “I know a guy.” But I’d have to drive to Cleves, home of Hibberd Armory.
Six shots
Later that afternoon, I was on the phone with the gun shop’s proprietor, John Hibberd. He told me he’d be happy to give the gun a look. Based on my description (the bolt action on the rifle is as smooth as butter) he said the odds of it being safe to shoot were in my favor.
“But finding ammo is going to be a challenge,” he said of the 30-40 caliber cartridge.
Driving west on U.S. 50 to Cleves, I was anxious. Everything on the radio was annoying me, so I shut it off and drove in silence.
Hibberd’s Armory is one of those places old guys like to hang out. Two men were chatting with the guy behind the counter when I walked in.
“Are you John,” I asked?
“I am,” he said. “Let’s take a look at this thing.”
I zipped open the worn leather case and handed the Krag to Hibberd. One of the men stayed to watch out of curiosity.
Hibberd put the rifle through its paces and deemed it safe.
“What about ammo?” I asked. “Were you able to track some down.”
“I don’t have a box to sell you,” he said. Then he opened a drawer and handed me six bullets, two at a time.
“Here’s two for your dad. Two for you. And two for your boy.”
I was speechless.
“What can I pay you?” I finally mustered the wherewithal to ask.
“Nothing,” he said. “Thanks for letting me be part of honoring this rifle. It deserves to be shot.”
Love and generosity
If we’re lucky, we have a Santa or two in our lives. If we’re decent, we strive to be the Santa.
Santa “exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exists,” Church wrote.
Timeless words.
And a timely reminder for us all.
Enquirer Executive Editor Beryl Love writes a biweekly column that takes you behind the scenes at The Enquirer. Occasionally, he gets a little sappy. Email him at [email protected]. He can’t respond personally to every email, but he reads them all.
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