Memoirs of Lloyd Moss: 1929
The next two weeks are a blur to both of us. Many preparation shad to be made, even for a small wedding, but we managed to make the necessary arrangements and Florence gave the proper notice for leaving her position which left her only four days in which to hurriedly purchase her trousseau. I called my parents in Durham to tell them I was getting married which came as a complete shock and surprise to them and Florence spoke and invited them to the wedding but they could not attend. I believe I soon checked out of the hotel and lived partly at Aunt Lena's in Jamaica Plain and partly in Salem. Florence's Aunt Ruby helped a lot to make plans and was very generous with her Packard car and her home in Danvers. We were married at seven o'clock in the evening by the pastor of Florence's parish in the chapel of Saint Thomas the Apostle Church just over the Salem town line in the city of Peabody. We were attended by my sister Virginia who came down from New Hampshire where she was visiting a classmate during college vacation, and Florence's older brother Ernest. The reception was in Florence's home decorated with a very nice bower of ferns and roses, the work of Aunt Ruby. The guests were Florence's family and friends and, of course, Virginia. Afterward we taxied from Salem to the Boston Statler, and the next morning took the train to Plymouth, New Hampshire where a chauffered car from Waterville Inn met us and drove us for miles through the woods to our destination. The Inn was a resort hotel back in the country near Waterville, N.H., recommended by Aunt Ruby, and it turned out to be one of the type that was fashionable at the time. Very antiquated conveniences and décor that catered to golfers and bridge players.
After staying one night we got in contact with the driver who had brought us up and arranged to be taken back to Plymouth. Knowing that we weren't satisfied with the Inn he had what turned out to be a most happy suggestion. He took us to Broad's Farm where they had a little cottage that they rented by the week to guests and fed the cottagers sumptuous meals in the farmhouse. Other than at mealtimes we were completely alone and it was exactly what we wanted. We roamed around the woods and fields, ate wild berries and became really acquainted with each other. We hated to leave when our week was up. Anyway, we boarded the train for Boston and suddenly in the North Station waiting-room we both decided at once that it was too soon to go back to Salem. But I was soon due back to the ship so we went to the South Station and boarded the train for Hartford, Connecticut after phoning my parents, and were met there by my father in his old Dodge car and taken down to Durham where Florence met the family and we stayed a few days for the family to get used to the idea that I was married. It was still a shock to them, but we all came through it O.K. Time was now short so we were soon back on the train again bound for Philadelphia. On arrival I took stock of my cash and found that there was very little left so I looked for a nice small hotel downtown and registered at the Robert Morris where I could put everything on the bill until payday which fortunately was not far off.
Then we went up Market Street to West Philadelphia to look for a more permanent place to live. I had been up in that section once with a shipmate and liked it. So without much trouble we found what was to be our first home together. It was in a residential section on Irving Street just west of 52nd Street and between Locust and Spruce Streets. A little two-room second-floor furnished apartment in a typical Philadelphia brick-row house. There were miles of these houses built solidly a full block long with only a brick firewall between each family unit. In back were little walled or fenced yards opening onto an alley that also served the backs of the houses that faced on the next street over. The alley was for the use of the garbage-men, icemen, etc., but there was always a colorful lot of peddlers who used it too. One I remember well carried a damp gunnysack over his shoulder and sand "Baltimore crabs!" as he went along.