Inside the chaotic, magical world of a Philly-area Santa at Christmastime

“Santa Kringle” is always dashing away somewhere.

In the early morning, when creatures are just starting to stir, he is an Uber driver, taking people to the airport or their offices in a red Kia with “ON COMET” emblazoned on the license plate. And during business hours on weekdays, he sits at a desk coordinating ads for Comcast.

But on nights and weekends, he dons the red suit and transforms.

In November and December, Kringle’s calendar is booked solid with photo sessions, home visits, fundraisers, and appearances. He shows up at tree lightings, breakfasts, weddings, and other events across the region, from Doylestown to Media. Each week, as many as 8,000 children and adults tell him their wishes, he said.

The grueling schedule is worthwhile, he said, but not because of a big payout.

“I will never run it like a business,” said Kringle, also known as Frank Naimoli, 58, of Glenolden. “I literally have charged as little as two cookies for a visit. I’ll never get rich or buy a car off of being Santa. … It’s just something I love doing.”

Professional Santas make about $60 an hour on average, according to the employment platform ZipRecruiter.

The pay can vary by event and by performer. Some charge between $250 and $500 an hour, according to several Philly-area Santas.

Others often play the role for free.

No matter the pay, being Santa is a grind, with perhaps hundreds of visits packed into a short peak season.

Many Santas schedule all this merriment around full-time careers — Philly Santas work day jobs as corporate professionals, small-business owners, and commercial truck drivers. Their vacation days, much like their natural-grown beards, are carefully kept for the holiday season. And come December, as the Santa grind takes over, they sacrifice time with their own families and operate on little sleep.

By Christmas Eve, “I am exhausted,” said Naimoli, who’s in his 23rd Santa season. “Nine times out of 10, I fall asleep in the suit.”

Several local Santas said they’re in the industry for the magic, not the money.

“There is not that much money there,” said Paul Bradley, or “Santa Paul,” of Mantua, Gloucester County, who retired from a factory job a decade ago.

“The hugs you get from the little kids, or to have a 5-year-old child run to you and [yell] ‘Santa!’” it melts my heart,” said Bradley, 71. “That’s why I do it.”

Dennis Daniels, 66, of North Jersey, called being Santa “a very comfortable and lucrative profession.” The former educator, also a ventriloquist, markets his entertainment services under the company name Mr. D & Friends. When he wears the red suit, he’s “New Age Santa.” (Don’t call him by his other name if you see him out in public, he insists.)

His Santa persona is “simply the traditional Santa,” he said, “but I look a little bit different.”

“My skin happens to be brown, and I’m also not rocking the belly,” explained Daniels, who has been a Santa for more than 30 years.

This year, “New Age Santa” has booked appearances at the Comcast Center and Newark Liberty International Airport, and he usually books several sessions at photo studios. Sometimes he makes up to $800 for two hours of Santa work. Other times, he shows up as Santa for free.

Daniels wants to keep doing this work as long as he can, he said, to be a Santa for all children. "I didn’t see Santas that looked like me when I was a child," he noted.

After decades of bringing holiday spirit to countless families, one Bucks County Santa recently felt the magic come back to him.

When Scott Diethorne’s Fairless Hills home burned down in late October, his family lost everything, including his 12 Santa suits, which cost nearly $3,000 apiece.

Fans of “Santa Scott” quickly came together to help, raising $100,000 through a GoFundMe and finding the family a nearby rental home. Fellow Santas donated four suits, and Diethorne bought two more to get him through the season.

“Without the community, I’d be devastated,” said Diethorne, 58, who has been Santa for more than 35 years. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

Their generosity saved Diethorne’s Santa career this season, allowing him to continue spreading cheer while putting in 50-hour weeks driving a six-wheeler box truck throughout the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic.

“My wife and kids don’t really see me from the middle of October until January,” said Diethorne, a father of nine grown children. He makes regular Santa appearances at the Fairless Hills Garden Center, as well as schools and daycares.

Diethorne, a former mall Santa, has been freelance for years, ever since he was instructed to tone it down at the Oxford Valley Mall in 2017. That year, he was told he could no longer flash his signature “Naughty” and “Nice” arm tattoos, welcome all animals in for photos, or strike funny poses as requested by visitors.

Some malls are strict with the Santa business, Diethorne said, imposing rules and time limits for each visit. The other local Santas said they’ve seen this too.

Now that he is his own boss, “I don’t care how long the line is,” Diethorne said. “I’m listening to that kid. That’s what it’s about.”

Every Santa has their own reasons for donning the suit.

For Diethorne and Bradley, it was a single comment. Upon his retirement, Bradley shared a passing thought aloud: Maybe he’d take up being Santa in his new free time. Diethorne, meanwhile, was told he’d make a good Mr. Claus by a mall Santa he met in passing at a local ShopRite.

Naimoli, who was inducted into the International Santa Claus Hall of Fame last year, parlayed his performance skills as a professional wrestler into embodying the big guy.

For Daniels, the New Age Santa, the spirit of Santa came at an unexpected time. While going through a divorce in the early 1990s, he found a Santa suit he’d never seen before among boxes he was moving out of storage. To this day, Daniels isn’t sure how the outfit ended up there, he said, but it was just the right size.

So in 1994, with his newfound suit in hand, Daniels became Santa at the Elks Lodge in Red Bank, a role from which his uncle had recently retired.

“I became Santa then,” Daniels said, “and I’ve not looked back.”

While November and December are the busiest times, some Santas stretch their season for belated holiday parties, or they reappear midsummer for “Christmas in July” events.

But the season’s end still brings a certain sadness, Daniels said, a “Santa depression,” because “for two months you’ve been a rock star.”

“Everywhere you go, people yell and scream: ‘Santa!’ They run over. They want to take pictures with you,“ Daniels said. “And then, on Dec. 26, you become yesterday’s news. We’re only human.”