Our Romance & Marriage

At my room­ing house in Macomb one sum­mer Sat­ur­day, I was called down­stairs to meet a Louis Switzer, who asked me to go to Tunnicliff’s Lake on a hayride with him as one of the Phi Sigma Upsilon fra­ter­nity. I had been wash­ing my hair and was clothed in my old red kimono, but I accepted as it was one of the annual affairs of Nor­mal school days.

He did not dance, but had named me as his lady for the Frat danc­ing party in the din­ing room of Macomb’s best hotel dur­ing the win­ter. He also chose a gen­tle­man for my part­ner, whose name appeared on my invi­ta­tion, while Mr. Switzer, remained in the back­ground. I was quite thrilled as my part­ner and escort was none other than the foot­ball cap­tain, Travis Bogue who later became a Phi Sigma Upsilon member.

Those two invi­ta­tions and accep­tances were the begin­ning of our romance, which has con­tin­ued for 54 years since the Frat dance. He vis­ited in my home but once, but we did have sev­eral ten­nis games and movie dates, before I left Macomb, for all time, I sup­posed. We wrote, spo­rad­i­cally, as I taught far­ther and far­ther west dur­ing his teach­ing and army expe­ri­ences in the cen­tral states and Kentucky.

He appeared, by pre­arrange­ment, one evening at my room­ing house in Rock Island, Ill., and again he caught me in a kimono, but I changed quickly while he talked to my two room­ing com­pan­ions, then we went for a walk to renew our friend­ship, which had ripened into love, though we hadn’t seen each other for 8 years.

That Christ­mas I vis­ited my Uncle Giles, Aunt Cassie and their grown chil­dren in Avon and received his Frat pin, which I have to this day. It was a mark of engage­ment, although not con­sid­ered bind­ing. The next Christ­mas I received my dia­mond and pre­pared to become a farmer’s wife in ten weeks, March 4, 1921, when the house on his father’s farm would be vacated by the hired cou­ple, which had been there for a year.

Louis and his dou­ble cousin Lisle Switzer, took a room in the Black Hawk hotel in Dav­en­port, Ia., and we were mar­ried there. It was a nice, big, cor­ner room on the mez­za­nine floor and the hotel help moved the bed­room fur­ni­ture out and replaced it with appro­pri­ate liv­ing furniture.

Due to my par­ents liv­ing in Alberta, we decided to have the cer­e­mony in the hotel, and not dis­com­mode the home of my uncle in Avon, although they wished the cer­e­mony to be held there. While we were sign­ing the reg­is­ter after becom­ing man and wife, a very loud hand-clapping came from the cor­ner room on the same floor of the hotel, which was about 60 feet from ours.

Rev. Arthur Buck­ner of the Edwards Con­gre­ga­tional Church of Dav­en­port, who had read the cer­e­mony, told us 100 B.P.O. Elks were hav­ing lunch there and were applaud­ing because they had just received the news Pres­i­dent War­ren G. Hard­ing of the U.S., had just been inau­gu­rated at Wash­ing­ton, D.C. It wasn’t because of our nup­tials, but the oblig­ing min­is­ter vol­un­teered to tell them a newly mar­ried cou­ple was only at the oppo­site cor­ner of the floor to which we declined with many, many thanks for his well wishes.

Our wed­ding lun­cheon awaited us in an alcove of the main din­ing room of the hotel, where we went to see a beau­ti­fully appointed table with yel­low jon­quils dec­o­rat­ing it, my favorite spring flower. Mr. and Mrs. Switzer sat down with their atten­dants to their first of many mar­ried meals, Miss May Black­burn a teacher friend of mine and Louis’s cousin, Lisle, attended us beau­ti­fully there and to the train, which we took to Gales­burg on our way to the Switzer farm, as I was to teach at the Pleas­ant Hill school to the end of the school year, start­ing the next Mon­day and were mar­ried Friday.

Louis had bought some fur­ni­ture, but as it was not arranged prop­erly, we spent that night with his sis­ter, Stella Toland, Herb and six chil­dren, then set in the next morn­ing to put our house in order. His crop year began in two weeks, so I ran home at noon 100 yards, to get as good a lunch as I could quickly, then went back to teach again until four o’clock, when the chil­dren went home and I plied broom and dust­pan in doing my own jan­i­tor work.

I didn’t mind that as I was earn­ing $250 for the two months, whereas I had earned $110 for a like time my first year of teach­ing and was only get­ting $180 for 2 months work in Rock Island. Louis usu­ally came in from the field about 6 o’clock and was ready for sup­per a half hour later so I had 2 hours to make our home nice and get him a good supper.

It was beau­ti­ful liv­ing, my first on a farm. Small calves, pigs and chick­ens appeared, the cherry, pear, peach and apple trees blos­somed and we could talk and laugh together until bed­time. That was about 9 o’clock as we both were work­ing hard and needed our sleep but he began work again at 5 a.m., so the nights were not long. One day a let­ter came to our mail­box from the County Clerk of Scott County, Ia., where we had been mar­ried, to the effect that since the mar­riage license had not been returned to him, we were not legally mar­ried. We wrote Rev. Buck­ner imme­di­ately to rec­tify the mis­take, which he did with apologies.

It has been a Switzer joke since then.

Next: Our Lives Since Then

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