My mother’s younger brother, Warren, then 10, describes the wedding:
All hell broke loose. This Koch guy was coming home on furlough, and was going to get hitched to my sister. It was Four Koch sisters riotously descended on our 220th Street home, seeking to turn it into a wedding palace – Agnes, Peggy, Mary and Jane! After them, D-Day was a letdown! In preparation for the great day, Frank, Ken and I, now nearly 10, 8 and 12, were sent out across the neighborhood on a foraging mission, a kind of loaves and fishes expedition, to find red ration coupons so there could be meat served at the wedding feast.
March 6th was a brilliantly sunny, crisp day, more spring than winter. At the wedding, my big shot Xavier brother Robert, with his fancy blue uniform and white gloves, got to give away the bride, subbing for Jim who was in the Pacific. At the 220th Street reception, I have a strong memory of being impressed that our pastor, Father Herchenroder, was actually standing in our backyard, in a black leather jacket, talking just like a regular person. After the reception, my sister took off somewhere with Corporal Koch, and we kids went across the street to the more serious business of shooting marbles.