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The Speed of Romance

Playing an old 78 RPM record brings the song and story of the writer's late in-laws, married in 1941, to life

By Amy Glass

"I found it!" my husband Stuart shouted down the stairs to me. He walked into the living room with his treasure held carefully with both hands. From inside a large yellowed envelope with a "Paris Cleaners" logo on it, he pulled out a heavy black vinyl record, dusty and scratched to a worrisome degree.

Old photograph of a woman and a man. Next Avenue, love, romance, 78 RPM record
The writer's in-laws, Bernard, left, and Gloria  |  Credit: Amy Glass

For years, Stuart had searched for the record, which his father had given him long ago. We knew it had been recorded at a friend's studio, just for fun, but didn't know what was on it. He had finally unearthed it while clearing out a closet.

Facing Uncertainty, Love Triumphed

I had my doubts as to whether it would even play. Stuart's eyes were shining at the thought that he might hear his dearly missed father Bernard, a baritone, sing once again.

The record was made in the spring of 1941, the year Bernard met Gloria and married her only three months later. I viewed the 1940s through the happy gauze of old romantic movies. Real life at that time was, of course, full of emotions and changes, much like our lives now. If Stuart's parents were here today, they would be shocked to read that United States deaths from COVID-19 have surpassed American deaths in the war of their time, World War II.

Stuart thinks Bernard recorded this special record shortly after they were married. It was a precious moment of happiness before the world changed.

Lifelong New Yorkers, Bernard and Gloria didn't let the Great Depression stop them from seeking happiness in love and marriage. They faced uncertainty each day, elegantly dressed: Bernard, with his British make tweed jacket, and Gloria, petite and chic, with perfectly coiffed hair. Thinking about them dressing for a better future makes me want to change out of the purple sweatshirt I try not to wear each day of the pandemic.

The glamorous Gloria, a fashion buyer, somehow managed to procure a lace wedding dress worthy of movie star Dorothy Lamour even as the Depression continued. Stuart thinks Bernard recorded this special record shortly after they were married. It was a precious moment of happiness before the world changed.

As Stuart examined the record carefully, I looked around our living room. Our house was built in 1943 and its original built-in cherry-stained bookshelves filled with worn and beloved books might have looked the same back then.

In the corner was a vintage style wooden record player that was designed to look like an old-time radio. I bought it for Stuart specifically to play the record, a 78 RPM, in the hope he'd find it eventually. We guessed Bernard had recorded an aria or two. He was a Julliard-trained opera singer before joining the Army. Raising a family redirected his dreams.

Witty and Fashionable In-Laws

By the time I met Bernard and Gloria, who would become my in-laws, they were advancing in age, but Bernard was still witty and Gloria fashionable, her dark hair in a shiny bob. We all hit it off right away to Stuart's surprise. Gloria was usually a hard sell when it came to Stuart's girlfriends.

It had taken years for Stuart and me to find each other in the ebb and flow of humans in New York. Dark-haired and fit with skin that always looks healthily tanned, he could have just stepped off his yacht, not that he has ever owned one.

When we first met, we both played it very cool. But it wasn't long before I was basking in the sunshine he radiated. Funny, romantic and artistic, he was well worth waiting for.

"Amy is lovely," his mother told him that night on the phone.

"How on earth did I get such a great review?" I asked Stuart.

"I have no idea. I just know that Mom's intuition is remarkably accurate," he said. "She knows a good thing when she sees it. So do I."

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'When You Wish Upon a Star'

"What piece do you think it is? A Verdi aria? Did he tell you?" I asked, as Stuart put the disc ever so gently on the turntable.

A heavy crackling sound seemed to open a dusty window into the past and there Bernard was, a clear, youthful and full baritone singing something unexpected but familiar, a song that Stuart and I had chosen for our own wedding, years after Bernard had passed away: "When You Wish Upon a Star."

Their voices combined and finished the song, leaving us stunned and teary.

We stood entranced by the magic of the song and the familiar, yet unfamiliar sound of his father's voice. He had a style that was more Noel Coward than Pavarotti, his voice filled with tenderness. The piano tinkled through the break and the second verse began but it was no longer Bernard singing. It was a woman. Slowly we realized it was Gloria.

We'd never heard her sing. With a slight tremolo that could have been nerves or the style of the day, she sounded like a songbird perched on a branch. Their voices combined and finished the song, leaving us stunned and teary.

In 1942, just a year after the record was made, World War II would take Bernard temporarily from Gloria and their new baby, Stuart's older brother Brian. Joining the Army, Bernard was stationed in the Bavarian forest, tasked with recovering abandoned tanks, with the Luftwaffe flying overhead.

At night, he slept under the 42-ton "dragon wagon" he and his team used to transport the tanks through the mud from enemy territory. One day a landmine blew him out of a Jeep and over a low cliff, breaking his back. After several months in a French hospital, he would finally return to Gloria, thankfully in one piece.

And now, here Stuart and I were in our living room, connecting to his parents, as they were when they were young, through their song.

"I have to play it again," Stuart said.

"Yes! You do!" I said, giving him a quick hug from behind.

Stuart put the music back on and once again we were transported to the past. This time, the room seemed to revolve slowly along with the record, becoming a stardust ballroom. Stuart took me in his arms and swept me across the floor in an improvised waltz. My heart was so full of love as I held on to my husband's strong arms and gazed into his eyes.

Although our world was spinning with COVID-19 and all its consequences, Bernard and Gloria were reminding us to adjust the tempo to exactly 78 RPM…the speed of romance.

Contributor Amy Glass
Amy Glass 

Amy Glass is a New York-based personal essayist who explores how our past experiences and memories inform our present.
 
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