Let it Snow: A Brief History of the Snowman

I, admittedly, live a frigid lifestyle. I’m not the best conversationalist. In fact, you won’t hear a murmur out of me. Unless of course we meet, unexpectedly, on a cold winter evening and you’ve partaken in too much holiday cheer!

I’ve been known to be a womanizing, alcohol drinking scoundrel. It wasn’t really my fault; I guess the years of abuse finally got to me. But that was a long time ago. I’ve cleaned up my act.

My evolution goes back … way back, possibly to the Middle Ages. I was around in the Dark Ages, for sure, a time of social chaos and repression. In fact, in 1511, the city of Brussels was inundated with many of my kind; an iconic presence that though silent, spoke volumes.

Our sexually explicit and politically fueled retaliation expressed anger toward the church and local government. I had no control in the matter. I was at the mercy of the masses. I took it all in stride, as best I could, until the late 1800’s.

It was then that I succumbed to the bottle and smoking. There’s no denying it. The proof can be found in the popularity of postcards and magazines at the time with myself the winter subject. An 1898 postcard has me carrying a couple bottles of champagne to an office party, already somewhat inebriated, and smoking a pipe.

By the early 1900’s my party animal instincts were out of control. I was a pickled, skirt chasing lush; a frozen W.C. Fields in look and manner. With the end of Prohibition in 1933, I had become something of a spokesman for most leading liquor companies as well as personal hygiene problems ads-bad breath, gas and yes hangovers. Oh the shame!

Aside from the pictorial abuse, I was also physically abused. Being the ‘snow man’ target was a favourite past-time for young children in the 19th century variation of the game, “Aunt Sally”. Imagine being bombarded by snowballs all in an effort to score points, or being plowed over by sleds into a state of nothingness. Bludgeoned by brooms. And dogs. Don’t even get me started on that one. Merciless.

My image has changed, thankfully. The Frosty the Snowman song that we all know and love debuted in 1949. It was Gene Autry who brought my character to life in the Christmas song of the same name.

It was also advertising that had much to do with my new persona. With an improved image – nicer scarves and a silk top hat – I helped sell everything: tuna, insurance, even Cadillacs. It seems that society wanted a wholesome image of me, for the sake of the children; a presence that was family orientated and innocent.

Some other facts about me:

• Creating me provides a great aerobic workout, burning calories and losing weight while doing so.
• Average number of snowflakes required in my creation: 10 thousand.
• I am an art form Michelangelo sculpted snow figures in 1494 Florence, Italy.
• I’m a reflection of the times; a modern artistic expression; unique.
• I cost nothing to build – requiring only creativity and energy.

My current concern is that I may soon become a distant memory; a depiction found only in pictures of yesteryear. Global warming and I are not the best of friends. My only hope is, as the 1945 song goes,

Let it snow … Let it snow … Let it snow