“The Miracle of the White Reindeer” was originally released in 1960.  To me, that seems like just yesterday – but to everyone else, we are going back in time 45 years!

My father, Lawrence (“Larry”) Raimond, who wrote, directed, and photographed this approximately one-hour long, 16mm indie film, was born in 1912 and was the youngest son of an immigrant family from Italy (his real name was Carmeno Lorenzo Raimondo).  He grew up in Massachusetts, and one of his jobs as a young boy was cleaning up at a local theatre.  It was there, with the encouragement of a kind mentor, that he became engrossed in the fledgling movie industry and around 1929, at the age of 17, decided to literally bum a ride on a cross-country freight train and move out to California where it was all happening.  He used to amuse me with his story of eating “Hobo Stew” under a Los Angeles bridge when he first got here, and how, with $2.00 in his pocket, he stayed at the local YMCA on Main Street until he could find a job. I always wondered if this story was true, or if he was pulling a “Hollywood” screenplay thing on me! Anyway, he eventually moved to a neighborhood just outside of Downtown Los Angeles, married and started a family (I am the youngest of three girls) and commenced a 50-year career in still photography and the movie industry. 

The Hollywood studios were too controlling for him, so he chose to be a “free agent” and worked in both the “studios” and for independent production companies.  He started from the bottom rung, and ended up becoming a director of photography and even taught cinematography at the Columbia College in Los Angeles.  I remember him always being “on location” and we were always hosting dinners for producers and visiting the homes of various actors, and once in a while a “big name” would show up at our house for an infamous “meeting.”  He also experimented with audio sound systems and developed a “sound” that preceded stereo that was far ahead of its time.  Being a self-taught musician, he was a semi-professional drummer on the side and also owned a music store in Glendale, California for several years before going back to the studios.  A car accident and resulting back injury forced him into an early (by his standards) retirement some time in the late 1970’s.    

Going back to the earlier days, though, I remember that the overall illusion of Christmas and Santa Claus seemed to fascinate him, and during that time of the year, our house used to look like a cross between a Christmas movie set and the display window at Macy’s Department Store.  Because of this infatuation with Christmas, in the latter part of the 1950’s, he sat down and wrote the original screenplay initially entitled, “The Secret of the White Reindeer.”

On a shoestring budget, and with the help of friends and colleagues, he managed to entice character actors, Charles Winninger and Fritz Feld to star in his film. Not having seen the film for over four decades, I’ll have to venture an educated guess at the storyline, which I believe was about two children (a boy and a girl) who are disillusioned with Christmas (or perhaps their parents were) and through their searching, meet up with Santa and a magical White Reindeer and travel with him (there is a beautiful Castle in there somewhere) to learn about the true spirit and meaning of Christmas.

Once I either view the film again, or read the screenplay, I’ll update this synopsis, which, I apologize, may be a little “out there.” (Has anyone else seen this film?)

I was able to locate one of the original crew members, Joel Colman, who was in his 20’s at the time the film was made and worked on the set as a camera operator.  He remembers one moment in the making of the film that left a lasting impression on him.  His recollection goes like this:  “ … the star, Charles Winninger, whose best known film was "Showboat" was sitting in a window seat on the set and was required to look at a picture of his departed son, reflect and then shed a tear or two. He grew very quiet as we rolled, looked at the picture and tears slowly fell.  After we heard "cut", no one moved for at least a minute.  After a moment I approached Winninger and asked him "how did you do that?"  He replied quietly, ‘I just thought of the saddest moment I have ever experienced and out came the tears’  In the acting profession we call that ‘Sense Memory’" .

Joel went on to become a successful director and cinematographer, who also offers acting workshops and classes in California.  You can visit him at:  "Professional Acting Class".  A special thanks to Joel for his contribution to this story.

The film was originally released in November, 1960 and then re-released in 1964 (which was the year I first saw it myself), under a new title “The Miracle of Santa’s White Reindeer.”  My father and I went and watched the film at the Alex Theatre in Glendale, California, and at the end of the movie, we stood up to leave and I remember him saying, “Now, don’t say anything to anyone that I made this film.”  Do you know how hard it was to walk out of that theatre and look at all those people who were talking about how much they enjoyed the film, and not being able to brag that it was “MY Dad who wrote it?” 

Sadly, the only copy known to exist of this film has been sold and re-sold over the years as part of a collection of vintage films and its current whereabouts is unknown.  Somewhere in my parents’ boxes of papers that I have stored away at my home may possibly rest a copy of the original screenplay.  I hope one day it will surface so that I can at least read the story again.  During the time he wrote and filmed this movie, he rarely, if ever, talked about it at home.  I don’t think I ever visited the set, either.  He was very closed-mouthed about it to anyone, including his family.

Oh, I almost forgot!  My father won some sort of children’s film award for “White Reindeer” the year of its release, and actually beat out Walt Disney in that particular category.  Trust me, I remember hearing the tale of “I Beat Out Disney” many, many times when I was growing up!    

About 15 years later, he did write another Christmas screenplay entitled, “Hey! Santa Man!” but it never made it past the story board stage. This would have been a story about a down and out homeless man who found himself alone and hungry on a cold and wet Christmas Eve night and believed in absolutely nothing. Through his eventual meeting with “Santa,” (the viewer never finds out whether or not this was the “real” Santa or just a human “guardian angel”) the man was able to pull himself out of the gutter and believe in life again. My father even composed a couple of songs for the movie.

The story lines seem similar, and I wonder if my father was actually telling his own story (metaphorically) in an exaggerated way.

In closing, I just want to say that I searched high and low for several years to try to find a copy of his film so that my father could see it one more time, but unfortunately he died in 2004 at the age of 91 without ever having had that opportunity.

During my search, however, Google.com directed me to kiddiematinee.com and I was truly shocked and surprised to see a paragraph about my father’s film in the “Lost” section.  I sincerely want to thank the owner of this site, Rob Craig, for including my father’s film in its pages.  And I especially want to thank Rob for taking such a personal interest in bringing what little we have or know about this film to light so that it can be shared by kiddie matinee buffs like us.  With his help and generosity, I was able to locate some original theatre lobby cards and a theatre poster (see below).  My mother, who is turning 80 this year, doesn’t know it yet, but she will be the recipient of these rare items this coming Christmas, 2005.  I plan to beautifully frame them for her so that she can hang them on her bedroom wall and remember the “good old days.”

Ho, ho, ho !!!!!!

Video/DVD availability: (unavailable)

Poster for the original 1960 release of THE MIRACLE OF THE WHITE REINDEER.
(many thanks to Bill Carter for supplying this most rare of poster images.)

Santa's Magic Castle!

Fritz Feld ponders his fate.

Fritz Feld redux.

... and our sincere thanks to Jim Liversidge at the University of Florida for supplying these rare images of a theatrical handbill from the film (which apparently double-billed with the equally elusive THE JOLLY GENIE!)