A Secret Life_ The Lies and Scandals of President Grover Cleveland - Charles Lachman [140]
“I do,” said the president.
Sunderland recited the same oath to Frances, who responded in a low but clear voice, “I do.”
Sunderland pronounced them husband and wife. Then William Cleveland, who had been standing behind and to the left of Sunderland, came forward to offer a benediction for life everlasting. With those tender words, Emma Folsom was the first to kiss her daughter on the cheek, the moment both sweet and sad for Emma. Rose and Mary offered their congratulations, Rose with tears in her eyes. Ben Folsom was next, followed by Secretary of the Treasury Daniel Manning, first among equals, and then the other members of Cleveland’s cabinet and their wives. Frances offered kisses to just the wives. Sousa’s band struck up a march, and President and the new Mrs. Cleveland led the way into the East Room where the guests spent just a few moments in conversation before Cleveland, escorting his wife, ushered everyone into the family dining room. At the supper table, the newlyweds stood in front of a huge wedding cake. Frances took a pearl-handled knife and buried it into the rich cake. It was the signal for the banquet to begin. Champagne glasses were raised to the bride’s health. Cleveland quaffed his drink; Frances, a teetotaler, put her lips to her glass for just a taste. Rose had made sure a bottle of Appollinaris, sparkling water from Germany, would be at her sister-in-law’s place setting, and a grateful Frances emptied an entire glass. In the overheated room, the water, chilled by chunks of ice, was deliciously refreshing. At the plate of each guest was a wedding favor—a box of bonbons. After a simple meal of spring chicken and terrapin, each guest was given another outstanding souvenir: a dainty satin box containing a slice of wedding cake wrapped in silver foil and placed inside a layer of lace. A small card bore the autographs of the bride and groom. On the box, the date had been artistically painted, June 2, 1886.
Early in the evening, President and Mrs. Cleveland took their leave and went upstairs to the second floor. Cleveland disappeared into his bedroom while Frances andher attendants—her mother and Rose Cleveland—followed her into her sitting room. All the guests remained seated. When Cleveland emerged, he had changed into a black Prince Albert frockcoat. Then Frances came out. Standing there on the landing for everyone to see, she had changed into a deep gray traveling dress and double-breasted waistcoat decorated with rows of steel buttons. A magnificent hat lined with velvet and trimmed with picot ribbon and ostrich feathers completed the ensemble. The Clevelands descended the staircase, and all the guests gathered around to bid the couple farewell and good wishes. Emma and Frances said a tearful adieu. Cleveland gently tugged at his bride, saying they were behind schedule. Rose dabbed at a burst of tears that had flooded her eyes as she bid her brother good-bye. The First Couple climbed into a closed carriage that awaited them outside the south balcony, and the horses started off in a shower of rice and old slippers as the guests waved, shouting, “God speed.”
Everyone lingered for a moment on the balcony and watched the carriage wind its way through the White House grounds without escort then take an unused road up 17th Street to outwit the small army of newspaper reporters who were massed at the southwest entrance in hired cabs, ready to give chase.
Cleveland and his bride were off to Deer Park, Maryland.
The honeymoon had begun.
Maria Halpin also got married, in the year following President Cleveland’s White House wedding. She became a bride for the second time, and her choice of a groom was truly shocking: It was her uncle-in-law, James Albert Seacord, the carpenter in whose house Maria had sought sanctuary after she was run out of Buffalo. Seacord, who was sixty-nine when he married Maria, walked with a stoop and was so frail he could