St. Francis of Assisi made the first crèche—or so his loyal biographer, St. Bonaventura, says—and it was a double success. The tableau lent a drama to the saint's sermon on Christmas Eve in 1223, and the hay later "proved a marvellous remedy for sick beasts and a prophylactic against divers other plagues.'' Since then, thousands and thousands of creches have been made, some commissioned by great lords, some modeled after master paintings, some encrusted with jewels, and some even designed to be wound up and set moving. But the most appealing creches are the miniatures done over the centuries by a host of artisans, many of whose names are now forgotten.
Last week 170 such nativity scenes were on view at the William Rockhill Nelson Gallery of Art in Kansas City, Mo. They are, with few exceptions, from the collection of Architect-Designer Alexander Girard, whose Santa Fe home is filled with a vast assortment of folk art. Hallmark Cards sponsored the exhibition for the benefit of the People-to-People Program, which has its headquarters in Kansas City. The idea was a happy one: in this one show, the people of 20 different lands are bound together by a single theme, and the exhibition is the most popular the gallery ever had.
Candy Stripes & Luminaries. Though holiday preparation and celebration took different forms in different towns, the whole U.S. was seized by that shared feeling, the Christmas spirit.
In Los Angeles, lights were strung on the palm trees, and passengers on incoming jets were greeted at International Airport by four 70-ft. crosses built onto the control tower. For the ninth consecutive year, the Santa Monica Municipal Bus Lines sent a special candy-cane-striped bus reeling down the city's streets. Denver's gift-giving was handled partly by rented Santa Clauses, who, for about $5, delicately park their cars half a block away from the receivee's home (the better to avoid the reindeer issue), ring sleigh bells rather than the doorbell, but hand over the present instead of escorting it down the chimney.
In El Paso, Texas, there was stiff competition between households and neighborhoods for the most striking luminario display (a Mexican custom in which lighted candles are set in sand-weighted paper bags), and in San Antonio rehearsals were on for the traditional Los Pastores miracle play. The Dallas Civic Opera, Chorus, and Symphony Orchestra got ready for their massive performance of the entire Messiah. And everywhere, newspapers were taking advantage of their readers' spirit of the season, whether springing from generosity or guilt, to help their pet charities.
Electronic Cheer. Rich's department store in Atlanta sent children monorail riding on ''the Pink Pig Flyer,'' also boasted the city's largest (65 ft.) Christmas tree, a northern white pine imported from South Carolina. The Atlanta Constitution reported that "edible ornaments are being revived''; there was hardly a tree trimmer around without a couple of gross of chocolate snowmen tucked away in reserve in hopes of having one or two unchewed examples left by Christmas Day.