The Golden Years: A Family’s Tradition of Marriage

Fifty-two years after his first proposal fluttered like a wounded duck, 51 years after he was turned down a second time and 50 years after they were, eventually, married, Jack Green received an explanation from his wife, Dorothy.

What was it that changed her mind that time in the coffee shop? She had, after all, left little room for doubt, or hope. Absolutely not, she said when he first proposed marriage. Then, to make sure there was no misunderstanding, she explained, “You don’t ring any bells.”

Just in case, he decided to ask again the following year. Still no bells. Still no way. Like swallows to Capistrano, he asked her again the following spring, while she was home on break from UC Berkeley, where she was a music major.

“I don’t think I ever told you this,” she now says. “I think the reason I married you was because you made me feel so miserable, because I wasn’t responding to you. I realized that if I’m this miserable, I must really care. You had me so depressed.”

Jack smiles.

“That,” he says, “was my way of wooing you.”

The Westwood couple celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary on Sunday. Looking back, Dorothy never did, actually, say yes. They simply started planning a wedding, and that was good enough for Jack, who had a couple strikes against him from the start. He was older than Dorothy by 10 years, which rang no bells for her parents, and he was a working stiff, not the doctor or dentist they were hoping would join the fold.

Somehow, it worked out, and, more important, it lasted. Dorothy realized while talking to a friend a couple months ago that on her side of the family, there have been three generations of golden anniversaries, starting with her grandparents, then parents and, last year, her brother and sister-in-law, Morris and Joyce Cohen of Los Angeles.

“At a time when divorce is so common, I guess that makes it pretty unusual,” Dorothy says. “But even if divorce had been more available during my parents’ and grandparents’ times, I’m sure they would have stayed together because they had such loving relationships.”

Beyond their affection, she remembers little about her grandparents, who were married about 65 years. Her parents had an arranged marriage, agreed upon in a park in Poland, and it lasted some 75 years.

Dorothy’s parents, Helen and David Cohen, emigrated from Poland in 1920, Helen pregnant with their first child at the time. David’s first dollars were earned by selling merchandise from a brother’s dry goods store door-to-door in Detroit. He eventually found success in real estate. David lived life by a Yiddish saying that translates to: “If you have and you give, then you are somebody.” The Cohens gave generously. They funded construction of a school and auditorium in Israel. They also gave to charities and financed a college education for a cousin who couldn’t afford it.

For their 50th wedding anniversary, the family hosted a lavish celebration at the Beverly Hilton. There were golden roses at every table. They conducted a second wedding ceremony, and when it came time for David to place the ring on Helen’s finger, he, instead, placed a crown upon her head. It was a fitting symbol for the woman he often referred to as his queen.

When Helen became ill in the early 1990s, David stayed by her side and cared for her until Dorothy convinced him to hire help. When she died, at age 96, he sat in a chair and turned to grandson Avrom Green.

“My life is over,” he said, “my Helen is gone.” He died four weeks later at age 94.

Dorothy and Jack, unlike her parents, wanted a simple celebration. No second wedding, no crown, no formal program. Dorothy, an environmentalist and activist, insisted on one other condition: no cut flowers. So living plants, orchids and roses among them, graced the tables at the Casa del Mar in Santa Monica on Sunday.

More than 100 people helped them celebrate near the ocean as they listened and danced to the songs of Glenn Miller and Tommy Dorsey of days and soft summer nights gone by.

A friend from Hawaii sent leis, Dorothy’s woven from white ginger blossoms, Jacks from ti leaves and he’e seeds.

There was no formal toast, but stories were told, and there were old photographs reflecting three generations of golden anniversaries. Jack says the food was wonderful, “but I hardly ate because I was dancing all night.”

Their marriage has been a partnership on many levels. Jack joined her family’s construction business, and from 1955 to 1960 he and Dorothy worked together in Desert Hot Springs, building then operating a motel and water system. Jack, serving as president of the local congregation, oversaw construction of a synagogue. It was a deeply rewarding time, they say, and also a period when their love grew rich.

When Dorothy became involved with environmental causes, including serving on the state and national governing boards of Common Cause, Jack supported her and attended meetings with her. When she fell ill from stress, he helped her heal.

They have learned about life from each other, from books and travels, from raising three sons: Avrom, 49; Hershel, 47; and Joshua, 42. Avrom and Joshua are partners in the family business. Hershel is mentally retarded and lives in a group home. All are unmarried, so it’s unlikely there will be a fourth generation of 50ths.

“Be open and honest with each other,” Dorothy says. That is their shared advice, ballast, for a long marriage. It is how they have worked through life’s challenges and shared in its joys.

They share a passion for the workings and patterns of life. Early on, they talked late into the night about politics, current events, about what was right and wrong and wonderful about the world. It is why Jack felt certain from the beginning that Dorothy was the one for him. Other women didn’t seem to be interested in formulating and sharing ideas, he says. Dorothy was different.

They still love to share knowledge and opinions, to learn new things and grow together. As a family, they often discussed issues at the dinner table, their sons say, Jack challenging them to defend their points of view.

“No television.”

That’s an important element in parenting, Jack says. Without television, families are more likely to interact with each other. Sons Avrom and Joshua remember a home filled with laughter as they were growing up. Once when Joshua was preparing to board a city bus to go to school, Dorothy and Jack staged a huge scene at the bus stop, acting as if he were a soldier leaving for war. They pleaded with the driver to care for their son, and as the bus pulled away, they waved and threw kisses. Seems pretty funny now, Joshua says.

There were always jokes, lyrics to poems and songs altered to lighten any occasion, puns, as corny as puns can be, in addition to heady discussions. One moment the topic would be welfare reform, the next moment something about a rabbi and a priest sitting in a bar.

Jack, 83, is semiretired but still goes to work every day. Dorothy, 72, founding president of Heal the Bay, serves as board president for another organization she helped found, the Los Angeles & San Gabriel Rivers Watershed Council.

Their anniversary prompted them to look back upon their lives, something they are rarely inclined to do. “There’s too much that needs to be done now,” Dorothy says.

Not only have there been three generations of golden wedding anniversaries. In a few years, the family hopes to celebrate again when Gerald Cohen, Dorothy’s brother, and his wife, Bati, of Los Angeles reach their 50th, completing a clean sweep for the three siblings.

In October, Dorothy and Jack will celebrate a second honeymoon, this one in Australia, where they will continue to explore life and treasure those things--land, water and air--precious and life-giving and, like love, meant to last forever.

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To share a milestone, large or small, contact Duane Noriyuki at (909) 338-2540 or at duane.noriyuki@latimes.com.