Tag Archives: Celia (Mimm) Stoutner

1938: A magnanimous Matron of Honor

For Sepia Saturday 383, here is a prequel to Bridesmaids revisisted prompted by a family photo — the story of my maternal grandmother Elizabeth (Stoutner) Laurence’s trip down the aisle as Matron of Honor for her younger sister Margaret.

My grandmother stands tall as Matron of Honor (1938). From right: The groom Ralph J. Rothbell, the bride Margaret Catherine Stoutner, the maid of honor Liz (Stoutner) Laurence and the best man, possibly the groom’s brother Spencer Rothbell. Scan of a family photo by Molly Charboneau

On Monday, 6 June 1938 my great-grandmother Celia (Mimm) Stoutner of Gloversville, N.Y., had the pleasure of announcing the upcoming wedding of her youngest daughter Margaret, to Ralph J. Rothbell from nearby Amsterdam.

News of the planned nuptials — made public at a bridge party Celia hosted — made it onto page three of the Gloversville and Johnstown Leader-Republican newspaper the next day.

My great-grandmother was undoubtedly thrilled that she would finally be Mother of the Bride — but I have to wonder what my grandmother Elizabeth (Stoutner) Laurence made of it all.

Headstrong oldest child

My maternal grandmother Liz, born in 1905, was the oldest child of Celia and Andrew P. “Pete” Stoutner, who were both first-generation German-Americans. Her younger brother Andy was born in 1909 and younger sister Margaret came along in 1914.

At age 18, over Celia’s objections, my headstrong grandmother Liz eloped to marry the boy next door — my Italian-American grandfather Antonio W. Laurence.

In A Valentine’s Day love story: My grandmother elopes I described the events leading up to my grandparents’ fateful 1924 trip to Detroit, Michigan, where they united in a marriage that lasted a lifetime.

Healing past rifts

Wedding announcement for Andrew J. Stoutner and Anna Grimm from page 12 of the Gloversville and Johnstown, N.Y., Morning Herald (2 July 1934). Source: Old Fulton New York Postcards

Celia did not get to be Mother of the Bride at that ceremony — but she was the proud Mother of the Groom when her son Andy married Anna Grimm in Gloversville on 30 June 1934.

Small wedding parties were common during the Great Depression and Anna chose her own Matron of Honor — so although my grandmother Liz surely attended Uncle Andy’s ceremony, she was not in the bridal party.

By the time Aunt Margaret’s wedding was announced in 1938, my grandmother had been married for 14 years and had two daughters — my mom Peg (born in 1926) and my Aunt Rita (born in 1929).

Engagement announcement for Margaret Stoutner and Ralph J. Rothbell, from page three of the Gloversville and Johnstown, N.Y., Leader-Republican (7 June 1938). Source: Old Fulton New York Postcards

The success of Liz and Tony’s marriage and the passage of time appear to have healed past rifts over her elopement.

My grandmother magnanimously agreed to be Margaret’s Matron of Honor and finally got to walk down the aisle before friends and family — including her once-disapproving mother — in this valued supporting role.

Holding a large bouquet, Liz stood tall beside her sister Margaret in a photo of the wedding party — and Celia probably felt a mother’s pride to have all of her children married and moving on with their lives.

Up next: My grandmother Liz, at age 1, sports a different kind of white dress. Please stop back.

© 2017 Molly Charboneau. All rights reserved.

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A Valentine’s Day love story: My grandmother elopes

Valentine’s Day this year brought to mind one of my favorite family love stories — how my maternal grandmother eloped during the Roaring Twenties to marry my maternal grandfather. Pieced together like an heirloom quilt from precious scraps of information, this tale begins in the early 1900s in Gloversville, Fulton County, N.Y.

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My maternal grandparents Tony and Elizabeth (Stoutner) Laurence in 1926 with their first child — my mother Peggy, age 3 weeks, who was born about two years after they married. Scan by Molly Charboneau

My grandmother Elizabeth Christina Stoutner, born on 20 Nov. 1905, was a third generation German-American — descended from ancestors who arrived in the 1850s. They appear in census reports as machinist, brick manufacturer, milliner, railroad employee and glove workers.

Born on 2 May 1902, my grandfather Antonio W. “Tony” Laurence (his surname anglicized from Di Lorenzo) was an Italian-American whose mother was born here and whose father arrived from Italy in 1896. His family members populate the census as junk dealer, garage owner, shoe shiners and glove factory workers.

The boy next door

Growing up, Tony and Lizbeth (as he called her) lived next door to each other on Wells Street in Gloversville — she in a house built from brick manufactured by her grandfather and he in a wood frame house just around the corner from his father’s Peter Laurence Filling Station on East Fulton St.

Sometime in the early 1920s, my tall, artistic, stylish and high strung grandmother Lizbeth fell for my grandfather Tony, the warm, handsome, solid boy next door — a skilled mechanic, craftsman and troubleshooter who was anchored in a large, lively extended family. And he fell for her.

But the road ahead was rocky because Lizbeth’s mother was “very against their marriage,” according to the daughter of one of my grandmother’s oldest friends.

I have to wonder why: Was my great grandmother Celia (Mimm) Stoutner influenced by the anti-Italian sentiment then sweeping the country? Or was she just intent on running her oldest daughter’s life? Whatever the reason, her opposition spurred my strong-willed grandmother to action.

Secret meetings

My great grandmother must have told Lizbeth to stop seeing Tony, and she pretended to agree. But all the while my grandmother was carrying on a subterfuge that fooled her family — including her younger siblings, my mom’s Uncle Andy and Aunt Margaret. Years later, Margaret shared this story:

Elizabeth was working at the school [a one-room country schoolhouse on Bemis Rd. about 3 miles east of Gloversville] and we all thought she had stopped seeing Tony. She would leave in the morning and walk all that way to the school, then in the evening walk all that way back. Well, we found out later that she would actually leave the house and walk a few blocks to meet Tony, who drove her to the school. At the end of the day, he would pick her up, drive her back and drop her a few blocks away so she could walk up to our house alone.

Exactly when my grandmother’s family discovered these secret meetings I can’t say for sure. But after high school, my grandparents were separated geographically when they both went away to study — Lizbeth to teachers college in Oneonta, Otsego, N.Y., and Tony to learn automotive mechanics in Detroit, Wayne, Mich.

I’ll bet my great grandmother Celia thought distance would put an end to my grandparents’ courtship — but if so, she didn’t know her daughter very well. Sure, my grandmother Lizbeth put on a great show while she was still underage and needed permission to marry — but I think she was just biding her time, waiting to turn 18 so she could finally follow her heart.

Young love endures

How they planned it I don’t know, and my mother was never told. But after she came of age, my grandmother Lizbeth joined my grandfather Tony in Detroit, where they were married by Father J.J. Hunt, a Catholic priest, on 9 Jan. 1924 — just 50 days after her eighteenth birthday.

My grandmother had boldly embraced her future, and she clearly did not want her family coming after her. The 1924 Return of Marriages in the County of Wayne, Michigan shows that, while my grandfather admitted that he was from New York, my grandmother said she was from Michigan.

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The treasured  souvenir of my maternal grandparents’ marriage: A tiny loving cup showing the Post Office in Detroit, Wayne, Michigan — the city where they were married in 1924. Photo by Molly Charboneau

Returning to Gloversville as a couple, my maternal grandparents Elizabeth and Tony remained married for life — confounding the nay sayers and eventually winning Celia over. And they left tangible evidence that their young love endured.

On my bookshelf sits a tiny, silver plated loving cup from the Detroit Post Office — the only souvenir from their wedding — treasured and re-silvered by my grandmother and passed down from my mom to me.

After my grandfather died at age 80, inside his wallet we found my grandmother’s pristine calling card with her maiden name embossed in gold, on which she had penned her address on Elm St., Oneonta, N.Y. — where he may have gone to fetch her for their clandestine drive to Detroit all those years ago.

May we all have love like theirs in our lives — and many Happy Valentines Days in our future!

© 2016 Molly Charboneau. All rights reserved.

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