There was this one wedding….
–Which was attended by Sandra Bullock. I didn’t know it at the time, and learned it later. The famous movie star was all of 10 years old. The bride was her aunt or a cousin of her mama’s or something. (I wonder if she remembers me. lol. )
–Where I called the groom by the name of the best man. Oops. (Thereafter, I wrote the names of the bride and groom in large letters at the top of my materials.)
–Where I dropped the ring. For years in rehearsals, I’d instructed the bride and groom, “If it drops, let it go. No one will know and we’ll get it later.” And now it happens and I’m the one stooping down to pick it up. Oh, well. Not that big a deal.
–Where the groom was wearing cowboy boots with his formal tux. During the picture-taking, I said to the bride, “Debbie, you should have worn yours.” With that, she hiked her dress up and showed me. She was wearing her boots too.
–Where the bride fainted. See below.
–Where the bride was an hour late for the wedding and pretty well sabotaged her marriage. Also below.
–Where the bride had lost her voice and was unable to repeat any of the vows! (below)
–Where the bride and groom insisted on writing their own vows and I let them. (Hey, I was young.) It turned out they were on the leading edge of a new trend. Soon everyone wanted to craft their own ceremony, and not just their vows, but the whole shebang. Nothing about that was good.
As the couple settled into my living room, the bride-to-be said, “We do not want to say ’til death do us part.” I asked why. “Because everyone says it, but then they get divorced. We want to be honest.” I said, “What do you want to say?” “We want to say ‘so long as love shall last.'” I said, “That’ll be about Tuesday.” She asked, “What are you saying?” I said, “That there will be plenty of days you do not feel the love. Your marriage has to be based on something stronger than love.” “Like what?” “Like a commitment–till death do us part.”
I wish I could say because they recited the correct vows their marriage lasted. A decade later when the groom found someone else he alledgedly loved better, he was gone.
In one wedding the bride fainted.
Susan was as lovely as any bride ever. Early in the ceremony, during my preacher-remarks, I noticed her swooning on her father’s arm and thought, “How sweet.” Then, she dissolved into a pile at his feet.
Everyone went into shock. Nothing prepares you for what to do at such a moment. I said to the best man, “Pick her up and carry her back into the parlor.” And then, “Wedding party, have a seat on the front pew. Everyone, give us ten minutes.”
In the parlor, they laid her on the carpet and someone broke open a vial of smelling salts. As she awakened, Susan looked up into the eyes of her mom. Her first words were, “Oh, mother. I’ve embarrassed you in front of all your friends.” Her mom said, “Hush. Everything is fine.”
The bride had not eaten anything that day and her blood sugar level was low. That, plus the usual wedding day jitters had made a terrible combination.
Exactly 10 minutes later, we were back in business. In the parlor I had asked if the bride wanted to shorten the ceremony. “No,” she said, “but talk fast.”
We still laugh about this.
There was the wedding where the groomsmen brought in a spittoon with great fanfair and placed it beside the kneeling altar.
Before we entered the sanctuary, Mike the groom removed something from his pocket and laid it on a table. It clunked. I said, “What was that?” “My Skoal,” he said.
I laughed, “Man, you’ve got it bad, if you have to carry tobacco in your tuxedo.”
It was worse than I knew.
The men (groom, best man, and groomsmen) walked in behind me and took their places across the front of the church. As they looked up the aisle at the bridesmaids now entering, I noticed something out of place. A shiny, brass spittoon had been placed on the platform at the end of the kneeling altar. (Later, I learned an usher had carried it down the aisle with great pomp, wearing his white gloves, and set it in place, to the amusement of the audience. He said he had searched all over town for that spittoon.)
I calmly picked it up and laid it behind the choir railing and the wedding party was none the wiser. Many in the audience, however, saw this and burst into laughter.
Later, at the reception in the next block, these same pranksters had rented a flashing arrow sign that read: “To catch a Crowe (the bride’s last name), Skoal its tail.” That was cute, I suppose.
The bride was an hour late and doomed her marriage.
Charles the groom and I stood outside the sanctuary waiting for the musical cue to enter. We waited and waited. Finally, someone stepped around the building to inform us. “The bride isn’t here.” The groom exploded. “What do you mean she’s not here?”
The bride and her mother had been seen putting the finishing touches on the sanctuary’s decorations an hour before the ceremony. She was wearing jeans and her hair was in rollers. Then, they had to return to the Air Force Base, a good 15 minute away, do her hair and makeup, get dressed, and drive to the church.
As the groom and I stood outside the church, he fumed and fidgeted. I tried to calm him down. “Charles, you have to shrug this off. Laugh at it. If you want to sabotage your honeymoon and get your marriage off to a terrible start, lower the boom on her. Ream her out for being late.” He needed to be as strong as he’d ever been in his life in order to restrain the natural urge to vent his anger. He needed to be mature.
He could not pull that off.
As I had feared, her lateness and his immaturity doomed the marriage. It didn’t last a year.
The bride had laryngitis.
Allen and Patricia had originally planned to memorize their vows, a rather extensive pledge each had composed. The night of the rehearsal, they informed me that with all the rush of events the last few weeks, they had not been able to get this done. Would I simply feed them their lines?
What we had not anticipated is that the day of the wedding the bride lost her voice. She had none. Zilch. Here’s how I found that out….
The bride’s home church pastor did the opening part of the ceremony and I was to do the vows. I asked Allen to repeat after me and fed him his lines, which he repeated. It seemed to take five minutes. Then, I turned to the bride. “Patricia, would you face Allen and repeat after me?” I gave her the first line and looked at my notes for the followup line. At that point, I realized she’d not said anything.
Not knowing what was happening, I repeated her opening line and watched as she mouthed the words in silence. Yikes. She had no voice.
So, I gave her the next line and the ones after that, with her silently speaking the words but which no one actually heard. (I was young then. These days, I would explain to the audience what had happened. But I didn’t.)
In the reception, a man came up and said, “Preacher, that boy promised that girl everything in the book! She has yet to make him the first promise!”
A funny line for a most unusual ceremony, I thought.
And the most fun wedding in a long time: In the French Quarter.
The couple was married in a courtyard at the north end of the Quarter, then held a “second line” through the entire district to the reception which was next door to St. Louis Cathedral. (A “second line” is an impromptu parade.) We had cops to get us through intersections, musicians leading the way blowing their horns, and the wedding party wore their outfits. Everyone walked in the middle of the street, dancing around, having a great time. People came out of residences and stores to applaud, and more than a few joined the parade.
Later, walking back to my car (near the courtyard where we had begun) I was fascinated to see how many street musicians were out doing their thing in the Quarter. Most looked rather ratty, like they’d been hoboing or hitchhiking, but the music was as wonderful and professional as anything you’ll hear anywhere.
I was glad once again to be living in this most interesting city in America.
I’ll think of other interesting weddings we’ve done, but when a friend suggested I leave a record of these, it seemed like a good idea.