Six months to plan and pay for a wedding? Did I do that? I sure did. The Merc stayed in Weston when I left for the big city so once my bills were paid and my savings account had been fed, I had a bit of dispensable cash. I wouldn't want to mislead a reader into thinking I was making big money working in a beauty shop. Not on 40% commission and $5 hair cuts! I'd never handled money before I went into the beauty business so how did I figure out how to spend smart for things important to me even before the notion of an "I Do" became a reality? I loved shopping in downtown Salt Lake City. It was mostly window shopping, mind you, but I loved talking china, crystal, and flatware or linens, color and fabrics or housewares, furniture, and other such with salespeople on my day off, hoping to educate myself. I liked the challenge of "want but too expensive" versus "same look for less". Buying for a someday took on new meaning, with a wedding date set.
The ceremony: It helped that Frank's dad was the President of the South Salt Lake Stake and could walk us through arrangements for our marriage in the Salt Lake Temple. I remember feeling just a bit awkward, however, interviewing with my stake president, who was also my future father-in-law.
After the wedding: I chose the Carillon in Bountiful for a reception and booked the church in Weston for what I intended to be a simple, meet-and-greet open house. That grew to become a second, full-blown reception! When and how did I lose control?
Invitations: Raised print--same look-feel as engraving without the cost, Old English font style, on ivory paper. Beautiful paper, beautiful print for an important announcement.
Refreshments: Although I'd been exposed to lavish food spreads at weddings in the big city, I chose to serve simple, ice cream pie at the Carillon, and in Weston, petit fours, and the traditional wedding sweet of my childhood, Frappe!
Attire: Still sewing on my little straight-stitch, forward only, Morse machine, I made three bridesmaid dresses--full length, Empire styled delustered satin, a soft but rich color of avocado-ish green--and created rolled-rose headpieces and hand mitts from the same fabric; Shoes dyed to match. The same satin plus lace for the bodice, same shade and style of dress, went by mail to my sister near Seattle, WA. She would be my matron of honor. Carma, my brother's wife, living near Pocatello, ID, made flower girl frocks in pastel peach for two nieces [Kay and Kathy]. Mae Tingey, a family friend in Weston, ID made Mother's dress. Frank's mom, Jane, had a regular dressmaker in SLC. In other words, it took a village!
Aunt Vera in Preston, ID made everything I would need in the temple for my endowment, marriage and sealing ordinances, including a lovely but simple temple dress of Pique, perhaps, with many tiny, round, covered buttons down the front and a lace-trimmed collar--a special temple dress because I felt uncomfortable about wearing a dress outside, once I had worn it inside the temple to receive sacred ordinances. The dress I'd purchased would be worn at the two reception celebrations.
Both mothers, mine and his, went shopping with me for fabric. I pointed something out to Mother. She liked it. Wow, that was quick! I then turned my attention to Jane. She wanted what Mother had chosen. None of us liked the idea of the mothers dressing alike so Mother moved on to make a different selection. Jane wanted that one, too. Several more attempts were made with the same result. It took a long time but, at last, a decision was reached. In similar shades of green, lace for Mother, crepe for Frank's mom. It was quite a surprise when Jane came to the reception wearing a dress from her closet, something she had worn and loved, from an earlier time and place, a taffeta waltz-length ball gown, a bit faded with age. Reason for her change of heart? Never came up in conversation.
A trousseau was traditional in my family. My mother and sister, aunts, my brother's wives had made me beautiful hand-stitched finery, some of it with lovely crocheted edgings and beautiful embroidery. My siblings bought me a small cedar chest for my graduation from high school, to store these pretty things in. Often, women of a bride's family hosted a "Trousseau Tea" prior to the wedding. Punch and cookies were served. The trousseau would be on display. This is where the idea of hosting an Open House in Weston began, as a way of having my mother feel included in the wedding festivities. Instead of a "Tea", I'd agreed to have some of my things on display at the "Open House" turned "Reception" for Mother and her aging relatives and friends. I spent a few days in Weston just before the wedding, setting up the display in my own way because I didn't want to create an opportunity for those little old ladies to count my crochet-edged pillow cases, then sit in judgement of my worth as a bride, as I'd imagined this custom of displaying one's trousseau was apt to do. My plan for both wedding receptions did not include any opening of gifts, either. This was not to my mother's liking and not at all in keeping with customary and traditional ways of celebrating a wedding.
I had my hair and nails done at Heiner's Beauty Salon, early on the morning of March 18th. We were to be married at 10:15 AM. Bill and Jane South had a beautiful, red rose corsage delivered to me to wear to the temple that morning, with their good wishes for a beautiful wedding day. Frank kept his bride waiting while he finished dressing. My cousin, Leone, had escorted me through the temple in the previous week, for my endowment. Frank had been through this process before he left for his mission. Immediate family had accompanied us at that time. Leone, Aunt Louise and Mother were again with us as we walked down a long, red-carpeted hallway to one of the beautiful sealing rooms. My cousin, Lois and her husband, Ken, were there. Frank's family--brothers, Joe, John and John's wife, Judy, his parents and Jane's sister, Francis, and her husband, Calvin McComber and Uncle Calvin's parents. Ruby Schwartz from school and Gladys Harrington, one of my customers from the salon came to the ceremony. None of my brothers were in attendance. I don't know why. It must have been a travel and expense issue, for them. MerLyn's plane connection didn't get her to Salt Lake in time for the ceremony.
There is nothing quite as beautiful and sweet as a temple wedding ceremony. Elder ElRay L. Christiansen performed the marriage and sealing. Frank was 25; I was 21. I don't remember the words he spoke to us. I thought I'd always remember but unless written down, even the most memorable things slip away. Notes from that time do mention that I couldn't breathe, cried no tears, and thought my hand would fall off, Frank held it so tightly! He had designed the simple, wrap-a-round brushed gold rings we exchanged, mine with a single diamond in the center. His friend, a jeweler, had made them.
A photographer was to meet us on the temple grounds following the ceremony. As we left via an annex door, people outside thought we were the couple they were waiting to congratulate and pelted us with rice. The photographer stepped right in and snapped what has become a treasured photo.
Frank's parents hosted lunch following the ceremony. Joining us, the Fox's--Uncle Ross, Aunt Blanche, their son, Chuck; the Chipman's--Aunt Valoy, Uncle Paul, their son, Taylor, his fiance; the McCombers--Aunt Francis and Uncle Calvin; the South's--Joe, John and Judy; Aunt Louise and Leone and my mother; roommates--Ruth Ann and Lorraine and a good friend of us all, Susan Hobson; Frank's friends--Garn and Alisha Chilcote, Beth Jensen, and Scott Smith. My sister, MerLyn, despite being quite ill, arrived that afternoon.
In a quiet moment before the reception began, Frank put a small, single pearl strung on a tiny, golden chain, around my neck, a traditional groom's gift to his bride. We greeted guests standing before three lighted archways filled with flowers in shades of apricot and peach with touches of rust, bronze, yellow and tangerine, green fillers, with pedestal flower candelabras at each end. The matron of honor, bridesmaids, and adorable flower girls carried baskets of flowers. The best man and groomsmen wore black tuxedos, a Tangerine carnation in each lapel.
Aunt Louise hosted in the dining room. We served over 300 people at the Carillon that evening. Although formulas were used to figure amounts for a crowd, there was little or nothing left for latecomers.
Near the end of the reception, we staged a wedding march so my brother, Sylvan, could shoot movie pictures. Mr. and Mrs. Anderson had made us feel that we were important to them throughout the planning stages of this event, putting me in contact with just the right people to coordinate a nice affair within my budget--the florist who agreed to arrange my bridal bouquet around Ross' orchids so they could be detached from the bouquet, become the corsage to wear when we left on our honeymoon, then re-inserted and naturally dried, and the baker who produced a unique and so-o-o beautiful a cake. And now, as the ball was nearing its end, Mr. Anderson demonstrated, impromptu, how to kick the toe of one shoe out in front before each step in order to show our long dresses to the best advantage as we made our way across the balcony and down the elegant, red-carpeted, winding staircase to the dance floor with Sylvan filming the whole of it. Like a movie director, Mr. Anderson made sure we got the best pictures of my wedding dress--Charmeuse-type fabric, Sabrina neckline, Empire in style, Alencon-like re-embroidered lace front panel, floor length with a Chapel Train--a fingertip, Tulle veil flowing from a double-crown-like headpiece with small insets of lace that matched the dress, tiny faux pearls and crystals.
My nieces had been told to hold the corners of my train until they got to the bottom of the steps, where they were suppose to let go of the fabric, letting the train settle down onto the floor, behind me. As I reached the bottom step, I could feel tugging on my dress. Scenes from the movie revealed the cause. Out of sync with each other, first Kay would bend down to release her corner of the dress train but seeing Kathy still standing and hanging on tightly to her corner, Kay would pop back up, still holding on to the material. Kathy would notice Kay bending down, then stoop down herself just at the moment that Kay stood up again. This see-sawing continued half way across the dance floor until they both finally let go of the train attached to my dress, just as I reached the spot where Frank stood, waiting for our first dance. Even though Frank was a good dancer, the few steps we took were stiff attempts and looked like we had four left feet. My salon boss, Elwood Heiner, cut in and did he ever take me for a spin. It was wonderful, him whirling me 'round and 'round!
We were the last ones to leave the reception, not by choice, but because someone had removed a vital part of the car. After all these years, does anyone want to fess up?
A single, beautiful, long-stemmed red rose, put in place earlier in the day by my husband, greeted me as we retired for the night, very tired but happy.
A bride at 21... It's a part of the story of who I am.
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