from The Boston Globe
January 4, 1951
Bride Gets Lots of Help in Hectic License Quest
fSAUGUS, January 3- There was a quiet, unpretentious wedding here tonight, but they wouldn't of been without the combined perseverance of a priest, the town clerk, most of the police department, the Lynn clerk of courts, a judge, a doctor and 75 of the most patient people in New England.
Mariette Maes,18 and glamorous in her wedding gown, arrived at the church of the Blessed Sacrament with her parents, Mr and Mrs Leander Maes, at 6 pmn confidently expecting to be matrimonially joined to Walter Skinner Jr, 18, of 11 Chester Place, Lynn.
Walter was there too, as were best man, bridesmaids and 75 guests.
Following proper procedure Rev William E Culhane, pastor of the church, asked for the usual cursory glance at the legal papers.
Then he looked again and saw only one.
The bridegroom had his Lynn license, but Marriette, in her preoccupation with things old, new, borrowed and blue, had assumed her husband-to-be had cleared the legal barriers for her in Saugus - which he hadn’t.
Priest Gets Busy
The ceremony ground to a halt while the bridegroom nibbled his already shredded nails and Fr Culhane set his brain on “overdrive”. Then he acted.
He telephoned Edward Newbury, house officer at Saugus police station, and got him to locate Mrs Ruth E Stevens, town clerk. She said she’d be glad to issue Marriette an emergency license, but not without a waiver of the required five day waiting period. She suggested they said that Lynn district court.
Fr Culhane then buzzed Judge William J Landergan of Lynn who alerted clerk of courts Joseph Cole, telling him to hustle over with papers. He told Fr Culhane to bring the bride, bridegroom and their parents, and they’d all cut red tape together.
Cole, meanwhile, hustled into the courthouse, made out the waiver, then raced to the judge’s home.
The valiant bridegroom took the papers after the judge signed them and set out violently to the town clerk's home to get the license.
He got pinched!
Policeman to Rescue
Patrolman William J McNulty wrote out a speeding ticket while the bride fidgeted in the front seat of the car owned by the man she doubted now she'd ever know better than “Mr Skinner”.
Finally Walter got his tongue unkinked and told the officer why he was rushing. He was then given his first wedding present - the ticket. “Move over-” said patrolman McNulty – “I’ll escort you there so nobody else will stop you.”
In a rush of exhaust fumes and screeching tires, they pulled up at the town clerk’s home - only to learn that their blood test records were locked up in the Town Hall and that they couldn't be wed without them.
Because both bride and bridegroom were now a lovely bright green, the bride's brother volunteered to rush over to Dr John A Favaloro’s home for duplicates of the blood test findings.
He returned, the license was finally made out, and the couple headed back to the church - still with escort.
The guests, meanwhile, stayed in church, sitting through a three hour Novena service.
At 9, when the Novena was over, the couple were finally married.
The tired but happy couple headed away on their marriage trip after a meticulous check of their tickets and reservations
Postscript
After the ceremony, guests were invited back to 57 Cleveland Avenue for the reception. Aunt Val, in fact my Grandfather’s cousin, organised the catering, preparing much of it herself.
They were Belgian, so there was lots of food and lots of wine.
My father’s parents were invited, of course. Grammy Skinner was a tee totalling woman of Irish descent. Pappy, 17 years older than Grammy, had been a big drinker but Grammy would only agree to marry him if he stopped drinking – which he did.
The legal age for buying alcohol in Massachusetts at that time was 21. Younger adults were allowed to drink but only if supplied by their parents, guardians or a spouse over 21.
The reception was underway. A toast was proposed. Glasses were charged, first and foremost among them the bride and groom. The groom lifted his glass for the toast and was surprised to have it taken from his hand by his mother, saying, “Just because you’re married, it doesn’t mean you can drink!”
The newspaper articles were inaccurate with respect to checking tickets and reservations. A day or so after the wedding, the newlyweds hopped on Dad’s motorcycle, an Indian, I believe, with a buddy seat, not a pillion seat.
It was January in New England!
In case you haven’t figured out why the special license was required – the legal age for getting married was 21. Mum and Dad were both only 18. I was born seven-and-a-half months after the wedding.
