Married WithOut Permission
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.
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