Sixty years ago, a group of children walked into a San Francisco recording studio with no idea they were about to create holiday magic.
Among them was 11-year-old Dave Willat, wearing cutoffs and a T-shirt, expecting nothing more than routine choir practice.
Instead, he became part of one of the most beloved Christmas recordings in history—a song that would be played in homes around the world for generations to come.
What happened that September evening in 1965 is a story of spontaneity, chaos, and pure artistic serendipity.
An Unexpected Journey Across the Golden Gate
Willat, now a retired police officer who volunteers as a docent at the Charles M. Schulz Museum in Santa Rosa, California, remembers that warm September evening vividly.
His voice was on the cusp of changing. He arrived at his church in San Rafael—a small city about 20 miles north of San Francisco—ready to rehearse Sunday hymns.
We walked in and they handed us the lyrics to ‘Christmas Time Is Here.’ And then they said, ‘This is for a Peanuts special.’
That impromptu recording session produced one of the most enduring songs of the holiday season. Composer Vince Guaraldi’s A Charlie Brown Christmas soundtrack remains one of the bestselling holiday and jazz albums of all time, six decades later.
Scribbled on an Envelope
Creating this classic wasn’t exactly a smooth process.
Guaraldi had originally conceived “Christmas Time Is Here” as purely instrumental. Producer Lee Mendelson made a last-minute decision that would change everything.
In a 2003 interview with the Television Academy, Mendelson revealed the casual nature of his creative process.
I just scribbled some words down on an envelope — ‘Christmas time is here, happiness’ and so forth, and never thought much about it.
Those hastily written lyrics became some of the most recognizable words in holiday music history.
Takes, Flubs, and Giggles
The children didn’t nail the downbeat song on their first try. Not even close.
Rehearsal outtakes reveal multiple flubs and false starts. The producer can be heard calling out “Never mind!” and “Take six!” throughout the session.
A 2022 edition of the album includes material from seven takes, though Willat suggests there could have been more. Between attempts, young singers collapsed into giggles—the kind of authentic spontaneity that would ironically become part of the special’s charm.
Skateboarding with a Jazz Legend
Despite the pressure of recording, Willat remembers feeling comfortable around Guaraldi and the other musicians.
Their choir director had a longstanding relationship with the jazz pianist and composer. Guaraldi had previously enlisted the singers for another recording project: Vince Guaraldi at Grace Cathedral.
He loved going out skateboarding with the kids during breaks. He taught me how to play pool on the pool table at the church.
This wasn’t just a transactional professional relationship. Guaraldi connected with these young performers on their level, creating an environment where creativity could flourish.
Ice Cream, Five Dollars, and Very Angry Parents
After completing their recording session, the children were sent back across the Golden Gate Bridge. Each received ice cream and $5 for their trouble.
Then came the problem.
They arrived late to their church. Many parents had no idea where their children had been for hours.
They get there. The church is dark, no kids. Imagine that happening today!
Some understandably upset parents refused to sign the necessary releases allowing their children’s voices to appear on the soundtrack.
Starting Over
The entire first session had to be scratched, according to Willat. Two more recording sessions followed before producers captured the version heard on the final album.
What could have been a disaster became part of the legend. The multiple takes, the chaos, the authentic voices of real children—all contributed to a recording that felt genuine rather than polished.
This imperfection became perfection.
A Voice Rediscovered
Willat, now in his 70s, admits he hasn’t done much singing in public since childhood.
I’m very self-conscious.
But a recent reunion with other original choir members at a Schulz Museum event changed his perspective. Reconnecting with people he hadn’t seen for 50 years reminded him of what he’d been missing.
When we all got together again, hadn’t seen these people for 50 years, we actually had a lot of fun. I really would like to get back into singing.
That September evening in 1965 wasn’t just about recording a song. It was about capturing a moment—one where children’s voices, hastily scribbled lyrics, and a jazz composer’s vision combined to create something timeless.
Six decades later, those same voices still echo through living rooms every December, reminding us that magic often happens when we least expect it.