A history of us, part 2

Part 1.

Maria was born in 1934. Her father was a wealthy businessman in Madrid, her mother the perfect trophy wife. They lived in a penthouse apartment in the middle of Spain’s capital—the apartment took up the entire top floor, complete with guest rooms and servant’s quarters in which lived a full-time maid, full-time cleaner and full-time cook. Her childhood was a happy one—she was well taken care of by her nanny and attended the finest schools.

By the 50s she enrolled at university. Maria attended her lectures and classes sporadically, at best—in fact she never attended any classes before midday so that she could sleep in. Here she met a young refugee, Ludwig, and the two began seeing each other. Although she was 18, her father ruled the home with an iron fist (he was, in Maria’s estimation, a “chauvinist pig”) and demanded her be home by 9pm, often meaning their dates consisted of dinner and the first half of a movie.

Ludwig lived in the dormitories at the university and spoke to Maria on the phone every night. It got to the point where the public telephone became known as “Ludwig’s telephone”—other students asked his permission before using it in case he was expecting a call from Maria. He helped her cheat on her exams (for which she had not studied) and she passed with flying colours. He did ok with the same answers.

After a few years, towards the end of their degrees, the two talked about marriage and emigrating to the United States. Ludwig popped the question; Maria said yes. However, legally speaking Maria was a minor because she was under the age of 25 and still living under her father’s roof, meaning that she needed his permission to wed. He was not happy about her marrying “beneath her class” to a peasant refugee who had no money or prestige so he denied her the permission she needed to marry Ludwig. “Ok then,” she said, “I’ll sue you”. “You’ll do what?” her father asked, taken aback. “I’ll sue you—you have no reason to deny me permission to marry—and I’ll call all the major newspapers and make sure that they know that Mr Big Businessman is being unreasonable!” He gave his permission.

The waiting list to get a visa to the US was months long, but they had heard from friends that the waiting list for Australian visas was considerably shorter. They applied as a married couple, although they were still not yet married, and planned a small ceremony (small because although her father agreed to sign the piece of paper he refused to pay for anything).

One day Ludwig received a letter from the Australian consulate saying that the visa must be picked up within a week or two. This was a big problem because in those days, wedding intentions had to be announced in three consecutive Sunday Masses to give the congregation a chance to object. They didn’t have a month, they had a week or two at most. Ludwig went to visit the parish priest and explained the situation. “Well,” said the priest, “We can announce your intention on Sunday. Then, Monday, is All Saints day, so the entire congregation will be there so we’ll announce it then too. And Tuesday is All Souls day, so the entire congregation will be there again so we’ll announce it then too. Then you can marry on Wednesday.” Ludwig was incredibly grateful: “that’s amazing, Father, thank you!” “Well, Ludwig,” the priest replied, “I’m sure St Francis would appreciate 200 pesetas in the poor box on your way out.”

Ludwig gladly paid the 200 pesetas, and he and Maria were wed on the Wednesday and picked up their visa to travel to Melbourne the following week. It was a simple ceremony. Maria looked beautiful in her dress; Ludwig’s outfit had been thrown together by collecting various items of clothing from friends in the dormitories (including an elusive button that he stole from someone else’s jacket with the help of the matron and her master key).

Maria’s mother was present at the wedding but she never saw her father again.

To be continued...
The image on this post is Maria, Ludwig and their grandson Luke. I do have wedding photos at home that I will share when I get them scanned.