WORCESTER (MA)
Telegram & Gazette
Dianne Williamson
T&G STAFF
A year ago, Solomon E. Toledo Jr. was the well-regarded head of the young adult ministry for the Diocese of Worcester. He was earning a respectable wage and hoping to eventually parlay his experience into a higher post with a diocese on the West Coast.
Today, Mr. Toledo is homeless and living in his 1993 blue Buick LeSabre. He works part time at Wal-Mart in Whitinsville, but a salary cut in half by child support payments barely covers his food. And although he has struggled for years with clinical depression, he said he is nourished by a holiday ritual he has performed for three decades.
Every weekend, the 50-year-old Mr. Toledo dons a Santa Claus suit and sheds his sadness for a few magical hours. At a discount store in the Wal-Mart plaza, Mr. Toledo sits in a tall chair and allows the dreams of happy, innocent children to nurture his battered soul.
“I love it,” said Mr. Toledo, whose bleached beard and ruddy complexion make him a picture-perfect Santa. “The world is so bleak at times. But kids see me and their eyes shine. If I can’t be a youth minister anymore, I can at least be a symbol of love for children.”
A year ago last month, Mr. Toledo was summoned to the diocesan chancery office and summarily fired by Monsignor Thomas J. Sullivan. While the diocese has provided few details, Mr. Toledo said he was dismissed because of a 26-year-old allegation of sexual misconduct that occurred between the then 22-year-old youth minister and a 16-year-old girl in Riverside, Calif. No charges were ever brought against Mr. Toledo; last week, police in Riverside said they have no record of any investigation against him.
Mr. Toledo said the Worcester diocese was told last year by the girl’s mother that he had sex with the girl twice. Mr. Toledo denied the allegations but admitted that he kissed the girl in 1977, then apologized and told her he could have no sexual contact with her.
“I was wrong to kiss that young lady,” Mr. Toledo said. “We were both young. It was a very different time. But the Worcester diocese has made me feel like a criminal. And they took away something I was very, very good at.”
A native of San Diego, Mr. Toledo came to the Worcester diocese three years ago from Portland, Ore., where he did similar work. He loved his job in Worcester and was instrumental in starting the well-publicized “Theology on Tap” series, where younger Catholics would gather informally at the Irish Times to discuss religion or listen to a guest speaker.
Mr. Toledo had worked in Worcester for two years and was earning an annual salary of $32,000 when he was fired. He said no details of the allegations were revealed and he was denied a chance to defend himself or meet with the bishop. He was given three days to vacate the diocesan Oakhurst Retreat Center in Whitinsville, where he had been living, and he received no severance pay.
“Now that I’ve had a year to think, I guess I’ve grown kind of bitter,” Mr. Toledo said. “There was no investigation, no nothing. I believe I was made an example of to show that the diocese can move quickly. Priests are often protected, but a layperson has no rights in the Catholic Church.”
Raymond L. Delisle, diocesan spokesman, declined to discuss Mr. Toledo’s case, calling it a personnel matter. He said only that the “circumstances would not allow” Mr. Toledo to continue in the post, and he defended the diocese’s handling of its former employee.
“Personally, I don’t believe they would fire anyone without having real reasons or explaining the details,” Mr. Delisle said. “I felt bad about what’s happened to him, but that doesn’t change why they can’t use him in that position.”
After he was fired, Mr. Solomon lived on and off with friends for a few months before moving into his car. He tried unsuccessfully to find work in other dioceses. And with no health benefits or medication, Mr. Solomon struggles to stave off the depression he has dealt with since before moving to Worcester, a depression now exacerbated by his circumstances.
He found part-time work last year as a cashier at Wal-Mart. Half of his paycheck goes to support a 9-year-old daughter who lives in Oregon. He takes home $90 a week, which goes mainly toward fast food and gas. He sleeps in the front seat of his car in various residential neighborhoods in Northbridge, covering himself with a blanket.
Two weeks ago, he volunteered his services as a weekend Santa Claus at a dollar store called The Max in the Wal-Mart plaza. Mr. Toledo said he has played Santa for 30 years at malls, department stores and photo studios in California and Oregon. At The Max, Mr. Toledo tries to make a few bucks by charging visitors $4 for a photo, but he said it cost him more than he earns to buy a Polaroid camera and film.
“My life is very, very hard,” he said matter-of-factly. “But in order for depression not to conquer you, it’s important to do something rewarding. Playing Santa has always made my Christmas special. I know that I have to be this smiling, joyful-type person, so it helps me have a better attitude.”
Mr. Toledo said he’s trying to save money to make repairs to his car, so he can return to Oregon and be closer to his children. He’s looking for more holiday work and plans to run a classified ad to hawk his Santa services at parties and other events.
And while his life hasn’t turned out as he had hoped, he’s confident that his work over three decades will serve as a legacy to a career interrupted.
“My life will always be a success,” he said. “Through the help of God, I’ve changed a lot of lives. No one can take that away from me.”
He paused, then broke out in a broad grin that belied a year’s worth of loneliness and torment.
“And I really am a very good Santa.”
Dianne Williamson can be reached via e-mail at dwilliamson@telegram.com.