The Hardest-Working Santa in Northeastern Queens

Photo: Clio Chang

“If your son has apprehension, keep him facing away from me when we’re taking the photo,” Dana Friedman tells the mother placing her wriggly 2-year-old onto his lap. The crying begins on contact. “That’s okay!” Friedman booms, his Santa voice at its full tenor, as he returns the child to his mother. “Take a photo of just the two of you!” He pretends to walk away, but actually sneaks back around the bench to stand behind them. It works almost instantly — the child calms, Santa smiles. Moment captured, everyone is happy.

Friedman has been working as a Santa-for-hire for over 20 years, making the holiday circuit at events across the five boroughs, and he often requests a little square footage behind whatever folding chair or sleigh or quasi-throne his hosts have set up for him for this reason: the North Pole photobomb. It’s a rainy December morning and we’re standing in what was once a Justice Girls in the Bay Terrace Shopping Center but is now a wallpapered pop-up photo studio with piles of presents and a hodgepodge of décor repurposed from Friedman’s own home and the mall itself. The photo bench is from the sidewalk outside and an SC for “Santa Claus” hanging on the wall is the only relic of the store’s tween fashion past — Friedman tells me he repainted the letters from the old Justice Girls sign. People come in to take photos with Friedman, who in turn encourages them to donate gifts, which he’ll bring to local charities and hospitals. (The fact that this is all for charity is why the mall’s landlord lets Friedman use the space for free.) I’m here as an observer, a witness to a day in the life of a freelance Santa at peak season, but most everyone I meet assumes that I’m also a part of the operation, likely because I unthinkingly wore a bright green jacket that makes me look like an elf. After fielding multiple questions about where to put toys and whether homemade crocheted gifts are acceptable, I immediately regret the decision. But Friedman shows no signs of fatigue as he deftly snaps a few last photos with waiting guests, and calls security to come and lock up (“Hey, it’s Santa,” he says on the phone). A mom tells her kid to say bye to Santa as they walk out the door. There’s no time to linger: Santa has another gig.

Photo: Clio Chang

Friedman, a 63-year-old civil-litigation lawyer, is a stout guy with a bushy white beard that he starts growing out every summer because it takes him six months to reach Santa realism. He’s a lifelong New Yorker who was raised in Borough Park. He’s Jewish, so didn’t have much to do with Santa until his secretary suggested, in the months after 9/11, that dressing as Santa might be a way to give back to the families of first responders. A natural performer, Friedman found that he enjoyed the role, and even went to a Santa class to learn the basics. Now he juggles over 100 bookings per season alongside his actual job — I watch him as he fields multiple work calls over the course of the day (“Hey I’m doing Santa stuff, I’ll call you later”). Friedman is now part of what he calls a “whole brotherhood” of Santas-for-hire, including his friend Stanley Taub, another Jewish Santa out in California, who he says has “impeccable suits.” (He tells me that there are “more Jewish Santas than you would think.”)

With the drinks I picked up for us at Bay Terrace in hand — a large Panera iced tea for Santa, a coffee for me — we make our way to Friedman’s bright green Jeep Wrangler and on to the next gig at the Douglaston Club, a private yacht and tennis club across Little Neck Bay just a few miles away. Friedman tells me that when he’s working on an event like this, the only one of the day where he’s being paid, he’ll make around $250 to $350 per hour. He says he spends most of the money he makes on toys to donate, but also on his gear — his Santa suits are custom-made and run up to $5,000.

Photo: Clio Chang

Susan, the Douglaston Club’s Santa handler for the day, greets us at the imposing Greek Revival mansion (the whole thing screams country club) and leads us upstairs where a throng of children are already in line. When Friedman enters the room, parents in plaid shirts and kids in Burberry skirts pause and turn with awe. They quickly swarm him and he’s back in his element, taking pictures and telling kids they’ve grown since he’s seen them last year. (He later tells me that the wooden staff he carries isn’t just convincing for Santa cosplay — it also helps with gentle “crowd control.”) Children ask him for presents, while a group of women in Santa hats come up to take a selfie with him. Within an hour, the job is done and Susan hands Friedman a check in a plain white envelope. As we walk back to the car, he tells me that he tries to get clients to put his checks in a Christmas card because he “doesn’t want kids to see Santa getting paid.” (While I respect Friedman’s commitment to preserving the fantasy, I must note here that I only believed in reindeer as a child.)

We have an hour between now and Friedman’s scheduled 4 p.m. appearance at the Bayside Historical Society. Friedman often has to get lunch on-the-go on tightly booked days like today, but we have time to stop at Avo Taco, a fast-casual restaurant that brings us back to the Bay Terrace shopping center. He doesn’t have time, however, to change into his “civvies” as he calls his non-Santa clothes, so people at the restaurant stop to take photos with him, which he clearly enjoys. I begin to wonder whether Friedman ever loses himself in the role. “They don’t really see Santa as a person,” he says as he bites into the steak chimichurri taco recommended by our server.

Photo: Clio Chang

As I watch Friedman warmly received wherever we go — passersby smile at him or say “Hi, Santa!” when they see him walking to his car — it becomes clear to me that people seem to intrinsically trust someone dressed as Santa. The reactions feel almost automatic, preverbal. It’s precisely what’s granted Friedman such access to the city. He says he’s spent time with all kinds of celebrities at hospitals and charity events — Michael Bloomberg, Cyndi Lauper, Rob Thomas, Jason Mraz — and no one has ever batted an eye. (He has a Bloomberg 2020 pin hanging in his car.) He’s rung the bell at the New York Stock Exchange, been on a float at the city’s Halloween parade, and worked with the Rangers, Nets, and Knicks (he had to turn down the Yankees this year because of a scheduling conflict). “My ultimate goal is to be in the Macy’s Day Parade, but they have hired the same guy for years,” Friedman says, genuinely forlorn. (Details about the man behind Macy’s Santa, I later found while attempting to research him, are incredibly hard to come by online.)

At the Bayside Historical Society, the security guard waves us in without asking any questions. Friedman pops an Altoid into his mouth because “Santa can’t smell like anything” and we’re shuffled into the side door of the castle-like building in Fort Totten Park by Barbara, our new Santa handler. More children are lined up for more pictures, more dads make the same jokes (“Have you been naughty or nice?”) and, like clockwork, we’re off again once the hour is up.

Photo: Clio Chang

It’s nearing 6 p.m., the sky dark and drizzling rain as we head toward the final stop of the day: the Eagle Warehouse, a co-op in Brooklyn where Friedman used to live in the ’90s and where he first put on a Santa suit. As we get onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, he puts on Bob Rivers’s Twisted Christmas. He tells me he’s thought about taking a break from his life as Santa but is afraid that if he took a year off, people would forget about him and his bookings would dry up. “Even for just a year?” I ask him. “Even for just a year,” he says.

When we pull up to the co-op, which sits across from Grimaldi’s, we’re greeted by Phil, our last Santa handler and an old friend of Friedman’s. We waited, listening as the children were led out of another room where a magician was performing. “The kids are going to shit their pants when they see you,” Phil said. With a burst of energy, the children arrive, Friedman’s voice booms, and for the fourth time that day, they totally did.