MWOP - Married WithOut Permission

Married WithOut Permission

Donna with dried flower pic on wall

End of November 1969, Keesler AFB. I finally reached the mid-point of my training and was granted leave. I took off for Valparaiso to marry my girlfriend Donna. There was one problem. Donna was of legal age at 20 but I was not. It was 18 for women but 21 for Men, at least in Indiana, and I was still a few months from being 21. However, in Kentucky, the next state south, it was 18 for men. I called my parents to see if they would sign off. While not thrilled about it, realizing I was going to do it regardless, they signed off.

The day after I arrived in Valpo was the first draft lottery. I listened to it with some of my friends. I knew the unlucky ones were going to have to make some tough decisions. Donna and I got married a couple of days later at a Justice of the Peace's office. Two of our friends came along to be witnesses. It was the middle of the afternoon but the Judge had to be rousted out of bed. He was slurring his words. I could not tell exactly what he was saying much of the time so when asked to repeat after him I repeated what I heard. Some words I got but others I could not, so I just made some sounds trying to mimic the same sounds he made. Donna was quietly laughing and I was barely holding it in. Our two witnesses were also trying hard to contain their laughter. The Judge did not seem to notice. He signed the license and then we headed out to a place just off campus where another couple of friends joined us for pizza and soda. It was mid week and there was hardly anyone in the place. The owner of the pizza place came over and sat with us and he ended up waving the bill.

The plan was for Donna to finish out the semester and then move down to Biloxi to join me. Upon my return I informed the Squadron's admin that I had gotten married and would like to move off base with my wife in January. Well, once again I screwed-up. Turns out I needed my commander's and the U.S. Air Force's permission to get married. So now I had to spend a little time with the commander to again hear what a disappointment I was to him and everyone he could think of. I explained that I did not know this and apparently the State of Indiana didn't know this either. See, I was under the impression that getting married was really between the two people actually doing it. Heck, I didn't even ask for Donna's parents permission. Air Force approved or not I was now legally married. So, he gifted me a couple of weeks of butt-can duty as a wedding present and approved the marriage.

Donna arrived in January and I was given permission to move off-base with her. We rented a one room apartment on the east side of the base, the low income side. It was like a small hotel room. It had a double bed, two side chairs, one closet, and a kitchen that was the size of a closet. The kitchen was so small only one person could fit in it at a time. Donna's parents gave us their old car as a wedding present. It was an old Ford and it had New York plates on it, but it was in good shape and reliable. When we drove in town the local police would escort us everywhere we went. Talk about southern hospitality... Showing our appreciation we made sure to drive very respectfully.

Donna needed to get back to Valparaiso for something. She took the car. I didn't need it because I could walk to the base. I got called out of class that afternoon and was told that my wife was in a hospital in Kentucky in a small town near Mayfield. I was granted emergency leave and hopped a bus. It was a very small town, where everyone knew each other. I got a room and the innkeeper knew who I was and why I was there before I told him. I picked up the phone to call for a cab to get to the hospital and the operator on the line knew who I was, all about the accident, and where my wife was. I got to the hospital and Donna was banged up but nothing serious. They wanted to keep her that night and the next. I contacted the local agent of our insurance company. I told him the details of the accident which was the other driver had pulled out from a small side street and to avoid being hit by his car Donna had to swerve to her right. In doing so, she skidded off the small shoulder and rolled into a ditch beside the road. Donna was on the main highway coming into town, didn't have a stop sign, and hence, had the right of way. Seemed straight forward except we were from out of town and we weren't just Yankees, we were New Yorkers. To top it off our agent went to school with the driver's wife and was a friend of the family. Uh-oh... Donna was released the next day when they realized I was in the Air Force and they had somewhere to send the bill. At the time I did not realize that was the reason. We met with the driver of the other car, his wife, and our agent at his office. The driver's wife tried to blame the accident on Donna's driving. I then asked the driver if when he pulled out did he in fact drive into the lane Donna was in causing her to veer to the right, (it was only a 2 lane highway – remember this is 1969/70 and we are in rural Kentucky). He admitted he did and surprisingly and luckily admitted fault. His insurance company agreed to pick up all of our out of pocket costs and gave us money to get to Valparaiso and then back to the base. They also paid $400 for the car which was totaled. It sounded like a decent deal. Heck, I was feeling lucky just to get out of town with something. However, the car was still in Donna's Dad's name so the $400 went to him. He thought the $400 was a little low, but being the good guy he was, and of course his fondness and admiration for me, he generously split it with us. The insurance company gave us a check for our expenses and told us we could cash it at the bank in town. We did. The teller at the bank was the wife of the guy who drove Donna off the road - so long Mayfield.

After we got back to Biloxi we bought a 1960 Rambler American station wagon with most of the $200. It needed brakes, which I put on with advice from a friend, and the windshield wipers did not work, which made it fun to drive in the rain. The best part was it had Mississippi license plates, no more police escorts. It ran OK and it eventually got us to California. We found a little bigger place in Gulfport, the next town west of Biloxi and moved. It came fully equipped with cockroaches.

In February we splurged and headed into New Orleans for a night during Mardi Gras. We didn't have much so we mostly hung out in the street watching the activities and crowd and we spent the night in the park, Jackson Square. We were young, it was 1970 and we were not alone.

My Aunt sent us an art piece she did, framed dried flowers, as a wedding gift. We hung it up on the wall where there already was a nail. It was the only art/craft piece we had. A couple of months later my Mother told me that there was money in the envelope on the back with the necessary hardware to hang the picture. Well, since we didn't need the hardware to hang it we never looked in the envelope. When I got off the phone I checked it out and sure enough there was $10 in it. We were ecstatic! We had very little money and $10 was a big bonus to us. We decided to splurge and go out for burgers. We found a place and had burgers and some coffee. Driving back home we passed by a club sitting all by itself on the coast highway with a marquee advertising Arthur Conley. We stopped. Could this be THE Arthur Conley who sang “Sweet Soul Music”? We decided to check it out. I don't recall there being a cover charge as we would not have paid much, but there was a 2 drink minimum. We entered and there was an R&B band playing. We ordered our drinks and after a few songs out came Arthur singing “Sweet Soul Music” – Do you like good music.... He did a few more songs and left. The band continued playing for awhile. After a break they started back up and after a few songs Arthur returned and again sang his big hit and a few more songs. We finished our drinks and then headed home. Other than the night in New Orleans during Madri Gras that was our only night out while in Mississippi. We didn't spend the whole $10 that evening but we spent most of it. It was my favorite wedding present.

It was spring of 1970. I completed my training in airplane navigation repair. We packed up the Rambler with all our stuff and said goodbye to Keesler and Mississippi. I was one year into my 4 year active duty commitment. In the last year I had enlisted in the Air Force under threat of being drafted into the Marines, survived basic training, experienced a Cat-5 hurricane, gone AWOL, married my girlfriend, and got to spend more than my share of quality time with my commanding officer. I was next assigned to Beale AFB in Marysville, California. One year down, and a long three more to go.