Macon Magazine

December 2025/January 2026 | maconmagazine.com 35 to the tall holly tree that now sits in the cul-de-sac, more majestic than the typical living room shrub. Another annual ritual is caroling from children by the tree. Over the years, Beverly Place has seen waves of residents come and go, but the rhythm remains the same. Children grow up, move away, and eventually new families take their place. "It goes in stages," Simpson said. "We raised our kids here, then there were no kids for a while. And then young families move back in. There's always somebody for Santa to visit." That continuity is what makes the annual party feel timeless, and once a Beverly neighbor, always a Beverly neighbor. The spirit of sharing extends to those who have moved away, a longtime custom of the party that dates back decades, according to an old Macon News article by Betsy Harris that declared "People of Beverly Place Know True Meaning of Christmas." The article also mentioned that the Christmas party was so integral to the neighborhood spirit that at the 10th annual gathering, partygoers buried mementos of the celebration, so that future Maconites might know how special it was to them. One former resident even flew in from Illinois just to attend. "She said she teared up twice just walking down the street again," Sapp recalled. "It really is a family. You can't replicate it." "People who value tradition" On the December evening of the 75th celebration, a blowup screen was placed in one front yard, so residents wouldn't miss cheering on Georgia in Children sing carols by the tree during the 2024 Christmas party. "That's what's so special—the longevity. It's just been around forever, and we keep doing it." The street's origins go back nearly a century. Built in the 1920s and 1930s, the Tudor cottages in the Vineville neighborhood were close enough to downtown for convenience but nestled in their own leafy pocket of community. When Mrs. Crandall first organized the party, each of the two dozen families in the area paid $1.50 towards party expenses and the gift limit was 25 cents, according to Barbara Thompson's 1991 Macon Magazine story. Though the cost of the shindig has changed over the years, a lot has remained the same. "A little oasis of Macon" Megan Sapp, who moved to the street 11 years ago with her husband, says it was that sense of continuity that drew them in. "We've always lived in this part of Macon," she explained. "When this house popped open, we moved to Beverly. You don't want to live here if you don't want a community—because it truly is a community." Neighbors, she said, watch out for each other naturally. "The people will do anything for you. They'll pick up your packages if it's raining, move them to your side porch. It's a little oasis in Macon. Not many people know it's even here, but we all know each other." That closeness is part geography— the homes sit fairly close together, sharing fences and driveways—but even more, it's spirit. "You don't get that in big neighborhoods," Simpson added with a laugh. "If you're having work done, the plumber's going to block someone's driveway, and everyone knows about it. There's not a lot of privacy all the time, but it's fun. We all share everything." In fact, sharing is what started the Christmas Party. A big archival binder sat on a folding table at the party, containing news clippings and oral histories about the tradition that noted the party really began when the neighborhood decided to invest in a collective Christmas tree. The tree has taken several forms over the years, from commercially bought and installed greenery to plantings that didn't survive, Neighbors huddle around the tree during the event.

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