After 58 Years Together, Gus and Elmer Eloped

by Gretchen956 6 Replies latest watchtower beliefs

  • Gretchen956
    Gretchen956

    NY Times Article
    December 16, 2003

    After 6 Quiet Decades as 'Friends' and Partners, Gus and Elmer Eloped
    By ANDREA ELLIOTT

    In the language of their generation, Gus and Elmer were friends.

    They worked together, took cruises together and sang in the same
    church choir. They lived together for nearly six decades but never
    held hands in public.

    Then, last month, Gustavo Archilla, 88, and Elmer Lokkins, 84,
    crossed the Canadian border near Niagara Falls and were married.

    "We eloped," Mr. Lokkins said in his Manhattan apartment one recent
    afternoon, before breaking into song. "To Niagara in a sleeper,
    there's no honeymoon that's cheaper."

    Then he paused, and his tone shifted. "We waited a long, long time."

    Mr. Archilla and Mr. Lokkins did not marry for political reasons,
    financial reasons or legal reasons. Through their 58 years together,
    they mostly stood by as others fought for rights like civil unions or
    domestic partnerships.

    Marriage meant more to them. It was something sacred, they said, an
    institution they cherished even as it shunned them.

    The couple capture what some in the gay rights movement say is an
    essential but unappreciated point in the argument for same-sex
    marriage: it offers something more basic and profound than survivor
    rights or shared health care. For many gays and lesbians, the power
    of marriage lies in the sanctity of its tradition, its social
    legitimacy ? the very thing opponents of gay marriage are
    mobilizing
    at the highest levels to protect.

    For Mr. Archilla and Mr. Lokkins, the need for an official blessing
    was so basic that until they married, they could not make their
    relationship public. It was only on the evening of Nov. 12, after
    they wed, that they embraced in front of others for the first time.

    "What we did was finally cap it all up ? make it seem complete,"
    said
    Mr. Archilla, the son of a Puerto Rican Presbyterian minister. "It
    was about fulfilling this desire people have to dignify what you have
    done all your life ? to qualify it by going through the ceremony
    so
    that it has the same seriousness, the same objective that anybody
    getting married would be entitled to."

    For years, each man attended the weddings, funerals and baptisms of
    his partner's family, but felt he lacked an official link.

    "I wanted to marry into his family," Mr. Lokkins said. "I wanted to
    be an Archilla also."

    The lives of Mr. Lokkins and Mr. Archilla have traced an arc in gay
    history: they came of age at a time when gays and lesbians could be
    jailed and the medical establishment deemed their sexual orientation
    a mental illness, treatable by electric shock.

    They now live in a transformed country, where the word "queer" pops
    up on daily television listings and gay characters are a staple of
    Hollywood. They have seen changes they never imagined possible, from
    the Supreme Court's striking down of sodomy laws this year to the
    ruling by the highest court of Massachusetts in November to legalize
    same-sex marriage. Canada had legalized it several months earlier.

    "It's been a period of wonderment," Mr. Archilla said.

    Although Mr. Lokkins and Mr. Archilla have remained largely at the
    margins of gay activism, they have been leaders in other realms: Mr.
    Lokkins was the registrar of the Graduate Center of the City
    University of New York, and Mr. Archilla was his assistant. Mr.
    Archilla was the chairman of the board of their co-op in Morningside
    Gardens. As eldest siblings, they consider themselves the heads of
    their respective families: their annual Christmas letter has 415
    recipients.

    Being gay, they say, is not a significant part of their identity.
    They acknowledge it in a quiet way: they donate money to gay rights
    organizations, but they socialize mostly in heterosexual circles.

    They are, in part, a product of their time ? a time when people
    hid
    their sexual orientation as a means of survival.

    "It was like a secret society," said Terry Kaelber, executive
    director of SAGE, a gay rights organization for the elderly in
    Manhattan.

    It was dusk on Sept. 16, 1945, when Mr. Lokkins first spotted Mr.
    Archilla walking through Columbus Circle. Mr. Archilla was on his way
    home from voice lessons at Carnegie Hall. Mr. Lokkins had just been
    honorably discharged from the Army and was visiting from Chicago.

    "I had never seen anything so handsome," Mr. Lokkins said.

    They chatted and then agreed to meet the next evening to hear a live
    performance of the radio show "Town Hall Tonight." After the show,
    they walked the streets and finally retreated quietly to the hotel
    room where Mr. Lokkins was staying. There, he boyishly unpacked a bag
    filled with keepsakes from his wartime military duty.

    "What appealed to me was the childlike manner of him," Mr. Archilla
    said.

    Within days, Mr. Archilla took Mr. Lokkins home to meet the family.
    Mr. Archilla's parents had died, and he was in charge of his eight
    younger siblings. He introduced Mr. Lokkins as a friend.

    Neither man ever considered discussing his sexual orientation with
    family. Mr. Lokkins was engaged at the time to a woman in Chicago;
    Mr. Archilla had been briefly engaged to a woman in New York.

    "Living a lie was the hardest part," Mr. Lokkins said.

    Mr. Lokkins returned to Chicago, broke off the engagement and,
    several months later, moved into a vacant bedroom in the Archilla
    family's Washington Heights apartment.

    No one suspected anything at first. But soon, Mr. Archilla's siblings
    began to wonder.

    "We noticed that he didn't date too much like all my other brothers,"
    said one of Mr. Archilla's three sisters, Idalia Chimelis, 83.

    The two men kept their relationship a secret. But as Mr. Archilla's
    siblings moved out, one by one, and Mr. Lokkins remained, the
    unspoken truth began to emerge. He and Mr. Archilla stayed there
    until 1957, when they bought a sunny top-floor apartment in a
    Morningside Gardens high rise.

    With time, they became "Uncle Gus and Uncle Elmer" to members of
    their families. They rarely missed a family gathering. They doted
    lovingly on their nieces and nephews. But they never doted, publicly,
    on each other.

    "They were never demonstrative," said Mr. Lokkins's sister, Helen
    Thrun, 81. Their discretion was essential to maintaining good
    relations with the family, she said.

    Still, acceptance was sometimes hard won. For 40 years, Mr. Archilla
    and Mr. Lokkins remained estranged from one of Mr. Archilla's
    brothers. This year, when the man fell ill with Alzheimer's, Mr.
    Archilla called him and they reconciled.

    Mr. Lokkins spent half of his childhood in an orphanage in Normal,
    Ill. He has a hard time talking about the brother who never accepted
    him, or about a love letter from Mr. Archilla that wound up in the
    hands of an aunt.

    "I just wiped those things away," he said. "It was terrible. I don't
    remember."

    Only once did Mr. Lokkins and Mr. Archilla take an active part in the
    gay rights struggle: in 1993, they held a banner for SAGE during a
    march in Washington.

    "It made me appreciate the big job that other people have done for
    us," Mr. Archilla said. "It made me feel some shame that I had not
    done more." But he and Mr. Lokkins told only a few friends about the
    march.

    Their wedding, 10 years later, was a very different kind of act, they
    said.

    "The emotion was different ? it was spiritual," Mr. Archilla said.

    The idea occurred to them when they heard about Canada's legalization
    of same-sex marriage. In November, they had planned a trip upstate to
    Depew, N.Y., to visit some ailing relatives. The night before they
    left, Mr. Lokkins and Mr. Archilla began talking about following
    through with the marriage.

    "I couldn't sleep," Mr. Lokkins said.

    At 6 a.m., they called Mr. Archilla's nephew, a lawyer who lives in
    West Seneca, N.Y. He tracked down some phone numbers in Canada and,
    two days later, the couple were driving with two witnesses ? Mr.
    Archilla's sister-in-law, Buelah Archilla, and her brother ?
    across
    the border.

    They got their marriage license at the Niagara Falls City Hall and
    were married in a 20-minute ceremony at the home of Dr. John R. A.
    Mayer, the chaplain of a Unitarian church in St. Catherine's, Ontario.

    They were the oldest couple ever married by Dr. Mayer, who performed
    only six or eight marriages a year until the new laws were passed.
    Since July he has performed 50 ceremonies ? 40 for same-sex
    couples.

    After the ceremony, Mr. Lokkins and Mr. Archilla and their two
    witnesses stopped at Denny's for a Grand Slam breakfast.

    "They were flying high," said Daniel R. Archilla, 40, the lawyer who
    helped arrange the wedding and saw them at their evening celebration
    in Depew.

    Some of their older relatives were still getting used to the notion
    of same-sex marriage but seemed ready to put the couple's happiness
    first.

    "I'm a Christian," said Buelah Archilla, 75, who was the host for the
    party. "It wouldn't work for me, of course. Whatever works for them
    is good."

    As newlyweds, Mr. Lokkins and Mr. Archilla say they feel a novel
    freedom.

    "I feel a sense of relief," Mr. Archilla said. "The maximum is
    getting married."

  • Sentinel
    Sentinel

    What a most wonderful story. Thanks for posting it here. I am so very happy for both of them, finally able to publicly show their love and commitment to each other.

    Just goes to show. It's never too late.

  • Gretchen956
    Gretchen956

    I used to think that gay men were only promiscuious, like I think a lot of people believe. But I'm finding out that like most stereotypes, that one only holds true for a few visible ones. I have met and heard about more and more who have been together for decades. I think they actually do better than a lot of the lesbians who are more inclined to monogamy. I just thought that this side of the story needed to be told.

    Gretchen

  • Odrade
    Odrade

    One of my boss' colleagues (and friend) has been in a devoted domestic partnership for many years. They have chosen not to marry AFAIK, until/unless it is legal here. Even so, they have combined assets, and have jointly adopted three lovely children. They are clearly a family to all who know them. Just thought I'd add one more to this list.

    Odrade

  • marriedtodamob
    marriedtodamob

    Thanks for sharing Gretchen, that was really lovely...(sniff sniff...=)

    mobbie

  • Mysterious
    Mysterious

    Aww. It's more people like that taking the stand that the world needs to finally shatter the stereotypes that have led to the prejudices we see all too often.

  • Eyebrow2
    Eyebrow2

    that is a great story..good for them!

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