On one occasion in all these years I’ve had one wedding whose announcement appeared in the “Styles” section of the Sunday New York Times. It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime events for most rabbis (fancy-schmancy ones might have a few; I was lucky to have this one).
In Spring of whatever year it was, I received a phone call from a woman who was extremely wealthy and extremely social. I’m trying to keep this as non-descriptive as possible because while she and her husband have been dead a long time, I don’t want to blab. These people had never affiliated with a synagogue and never would, but her daughter was engaged to a fine Jewish attorney who insisted that a rabbi officiate. I asked her if her daughter’s fiancé was Jewish and when she said he was I told her to have them get in touch with me for a pre-marital conversation and counseling.
I could tell he was much older than the bride-to-be. We engaged in some chit-chat and when I asked him where and what kind of law he practiced; he was very secretive. Finally, he told me he had been the personal attorney to two US presidents. My jaw dropped. I said to myself, “Myself, this is going to be a night to remember!”
The wedding was to be held in so exclusive a country club, no one I knew ever heard of it even though it was in the general Wilmington area. (I always said, it was so exclusive they not only didn’t allow Jews to be members, they didn’t allow Gentiles either!!!) Suzy and I walked into the lobby, and while I had to find the room where the ketubah and license would be signed, Suzy walked over to Irving and Charlotte Shapiro, members of our congregation. Irving was the CEO of the DuPont Company. As Suzy told them, “When the Shapiros are the ONLY people you recognize you know this is some wedding!”
I was directed into a room and was introduced to the groomsmen who also were the witnesses to the ketubah and license. They were Senator Howard Metzenbaum of Ohio, Senator Ernest Hollings of South Carolina, Representative Charles (Chuck) Schumer of New York, and others but I cannot recall who they were. All I could think about was the value of that ketubah years from then.
So the ceremony and reception were over. We were sitting outside on that warm October evening. It was right around Succot. The father-of-the-groom was a hoo-hah professional in the community (as was his wife), but he had grown up in the Orthodox shul. His brothers who were present never left the shul; in fact, they remained very active. They got very drunk. They danced and danced and danced. Suzy and I laughed and laughed. We could feel the ground shake from the high-brow anti-Semites who were turning in their graves with these guys singing old Yiddish songs and dancing their booze away.
The mother of the bride came over. She had to say something nice. She did. “That was such a beautiful ceremony! If I ever need a rabbi again, I’ll know just whom to call.” Now she was a VERY influential, shall I say, official. So, I replied with a smile, “Of course…and if I ever need a XXXXX I’ll know just whom to call!” Her snow-white face spoke for itself.
(Speaking of JUDGES, the man had been hauled into court on a charge of reckless driving. But the story he told the JUDGE was so sad, so poignant, so filled with the pathos of human heartbreak, that her honor had to brush the tears from her eyes before she could speak. “I’m not blaming you, “ she finally said with a choked voice, “just fining you”)