How About Me? Commitment

We checked out in the morning, completed our drive to the airport, parked my car, and boarded our plane.  Boring but truthful.

 

We landed in Las Vegas, rented a car, and drove down the Las Vegas strip.  The drive took us by big name casinos with what we expected to hold upscale, high-priced hotel rooms – Hacienda, Tropicana, Aladdin, The Dunes, MGM, Caesars Palace, Flamingo Hilton,  The Desert Inn, Silver Slipper,  Castaways, Frontier, Stardust, Sands, Riviera, Sahara, Circus Circus, the Thunderbird and dozens of walk-in and get married chapels.

Ruth didn’t want to get married in a little chapel on the strip even if it had a pretty name like  Little Chapel of the Silver Bells or Chapel of the Flowers.  She started to cry.

We needed a place to stay and a place to get married.   Two equally important objectives.  I told her we would explore our marriage options and avoid the million plus chapels.   (If you were married in one of these chapels, I hope things are going well for you.  It just wasn’t in the cards for us.)

We located the Tod Motor Hotel on the north end of the strip past the major casinos and booked a room at $25.00 for the night.  Once inside the room I started to make phone calls to locate a site to get married.  I was raised Catholic so it only made sense that I would contact a Catholic Church for guidance.  The yellow pages had a listing for a church in Boulder City.  Boulder City sounded friendlier than Las Vegas, so I called it.   I ended up speaking to a Fr. Boulder (really) and asked if he could marry us.   I explained that I was Catholic, but my intended was Baptist.  His reply was direct and politically insensitive.

“You haven’t got a Chinaman’s chance” and he spoke it with an Irish brogue.  No church wedding for us.

My second call was more helpful.   I called one of the “I don’t want to get married in one of those” chapels.   They wanted to know where I was so they could send a limo “right away”.   They would supply a  wedding dress, a tux, flowers, photos, a cake, the works.  I could select from a multitude of services or opt for a pay one price option.  They wanted to be as helpful as I would allow them.  I just wanted to know where to obtain a marriage license.  “The Clark County Courthouse” was the reply.  “Tell us where you are and we’ll be right over.”  I provided a quick “No thanks”  and hung up.

We dressed for the ceremony.  Ruth wore a short blue dress with little turtles (kind of a seaside look).   I wore the borrowed blue blazer and my new maroon, polyester dress slacks (what a stud).  We got directions from the front desk and made the quick trip to the courthouse.

We weren’t the only ones intent on getting married that day.  The court bailiff directed us to a line of people looking for the same “how do you get a marriage license” information. We saw people in wedding dresses and tuxes (over kill), mink stoles (prior to PETA) and guys with rolled up white tee-shirt sleeves (at least the shirt had sleeves).  Then there was us, the all-American cover of Look and Life magazine, model prospects.  We were beautiful.

The line progressed quickly.  As the clerk processed our license, she told us we could get married by a Justice of the Peace in the courthouse.  We approached the bailiff that had helped us earlier for additional directions. Without any words being exchanged, he pointed upstairs.

We found the Justice of the Peace office with a sign stating a ceremony was in progress.   We sat down and waited for about three minutes.  As the happy couple left, we were invited into the office.  The Justice welcomed us and asked if we had attendees.  “No” was our simple reply.  “No problem” came from the justice, followed by “Do you have a ring?”   Turns out we did.   Ruth was wearing a pearl ring her dad had given her.  “That will work just fine”.  Ruth handed him the ring and the ceremony began.

I don’t recall much about the office.  There were some artificial plants and a picture or two.  I do remember, very clearly, that it was just the three of us in the room.  As the Justice started the ceremony, Ruth began to cry.  I laughed.  Here we were on the most important day of our life crying, laughing,  “repeating after me” and then, “I doing.”  Five minutes later I could “kiss the bride” and were married.

Later, when I examined our marriage license it had been signed by the bailiff, the marriage license clerk (our witnesses who were not in the room), and the Justice.    The entire bill came to $15.00.   Pretty simple process.

As we exited the courthouse we saw a clock and a thermometer.  It was 1:00 p.m. PST,  101 degrees, Saturday, September 11, 1971.

Now what?

TBC