Gilda and I were not invited to the three day wedding extravaganza in Venice ceremoniously linking Jeff Bezos with Lauren Sanchez.
But we did attend a Venetian wedding 25 years ago that set a standard not easily matched by any nuptials we have since witnessed.
With about 20 friends from America in attendance, and another 70 or so relatives and friends from Italy, Gianna and Jim exchanged marriage vows in the 15th century Gothic style Church of Santo Stefano. For Jim, a widower, it was his second marriage.
A Catholic, Gianna had married and divorced her first two husbands. As both men were Jewish, rabbis had officiated the ceremonies. Now, marrying Jim, a fellow Catholic, finally a priest could sanctify her union as, in the church’s eyes, Gianna had never previously married, much less divorced.
Ironically, the priest was a Jewish convert. Indeed, he had been a rabbi. I have teased Gianna that her three marriages were officiated by rabbis.
Gianna was born in Venice. Her elderly mother was still living in the canal city. Her brother and his wife lived in nearby Vicenza where he was head of the Italian office of the Gemological Institute of America.
A co-worker of Gilda’s at Beth Israel and later Mount Sinai Hospital, Gianna orchestrated a near week-long celebration including several group dinners. A visit to the GIA proved educational in precious metal security.
Upon entering the GIA each visitor and their belongings were weighed. We were weighed upon exiting, as well. Any discrepancy had to be accounted for by the weight of purchases that might have been made.
We next traveled to downtown Vicenza to Gianna’s brother’s upper floor residence in a stone building easily 400 years old. When we emerged from the elevator, centuries of time evaporated. The apartment was one of the most modern Gilda and I had ever been in. Gilda commented how environmentally conservative Italians and other European countries have been compared to Americans. They preserve the exterior character of their buildings, gutting the inside to retrofit modern conveniences. In America, all too often we knock down heritage structures to build bland, formulaic structures absent character.
This preservation mentality displayed itself to us a few years later when our family vacationed in Eastern Europe. In Budapest we idled our car as Gilda went inside the old, very old, Hotel Pest to check on its accommodations. She emerged after 20 minutes giggling in delight. Yes, the exterior was old, but the interior was ultra modern, though the architects did leave a glassed off view of how the building looked hundreds of years ago.
Back to Venice: Following the late Saturday afternoon ceremony, the wedding entourage boarded gondolas for a circular half mile voyage to the Bauer Hotel for the dinner and party. It was the local custom back then that while the band played during dinner no one danced. Gianna’s and Jim’s American guests had other ideas.
Between courses, we Americans got up to dance. At first the band was nonplussed. But the band soon got into the swing of things and we danced the night away, joined by local Venetians.
Like Bezos and Sanchez, Gianna and Jim had top line entertainment attend and perform at their wedding. A personal friend, Sean McDermott sang during dinner. McDermott has had lead roles in numerous Broadway musicals including Miss Saigon, Grease and Chicago, and has performed for three presidents at the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.
Murrays in Venice: Gianna’s and Jim’s wedding was not Gilda’s and my only time in Venice. On our first trip there during July 1976, we had a memorable encounter with another Murray, a newlywed younger than I.
We were traveling by train from Florence to Venice. We were not aware that only the first two cars of the train would be uncoupled for the journey onto the island city. When the conductor eventually made this known to us in the fourth car, we hurriedly assembled our overpacked luggage and jostled our way forward.
I kept hearing my name; Gilda kept denying she was calling me. We finally made it to the second car, Gilda standing next to me. “Murray, wait for me” rang in both our ears. The dulcimer sound came from an attractive blonde. Sure, I’ll wait for you, I thought. Only, she wasn’t talking to me. She was attaching herself to a young gent standing next to me.
Naturally, we introduced ourselves. (Murrays have a certain bond, like Masons or Elks who meet in strange lands. No secret handshake, just a bond.) They were on their honeymoon, having married right after graduating from Queens College. His aunt, a travel agent, had gifted them a six-week honeymoon. They were booked into Excelsior hotels throughout Europe. Everything had been pre-planned and pre-paid. All they had to do was show up at their hotels and their respective city tours. They even had the time of their gondola ride scheduled—8 pm that evening.
It was already four weeks into their extensive tour. They were clearly exhausted but couldn’t take the time to rest. Pre-paid hotel reservations could not be changed, so they trekked on.
I asked how they liked Rome. They did. I asked what they thought of the Vatican. They sheepishly said they hadn’t seen it. Huh? Explain yourselves, Murray.
Seems his aunt did not book that tour. Before they realized the Vatican was in Rome they were in Florence. And they couldn’t go back!
My confidence that the exalted name of Murray was bestowed only on the intelligent vanished that instant.
Not all was lost, however. They realized they would not be able to use their passes to the Lido Beach across the channel before having to leave Venice, so they generously gave them to us. That way, at least, the Lido would not go Murrayless. We enjoyed a beautiful day at the beach.
