God & Betty Crocker

"What we try to do," says the producer of NBC's daily nuptial show, Bride and Groom, "is to give the ordinary American girl a chance to have a big wedding on TV just like Grace Kelly and Queen Elizabeth." Nonetheless, for ten seasons, comedians, critics and the Roman Catholic Church have heaped scorn on the show's televised weddings. One objector paraphrased the commercial-mottled script: "Whomsoever God and Betty Crocker hath joined together . . ." Another said: "Bride and Groom is as embarrassing as watching your girl friend publicly eating peas off her knife." Bob Hope cracked: "I had a couple of friends who got married on the show, and after it was over they learned that their marriage wouldn't be legal in twelve states for 14 days when the kinescopes were played there."

But cries of crass commercialism fail to shake Bride and Groom. The show pulls 500 letters a day from young women eager to fit out the new home with such goodies as live chinchillas and gold mines in Montana. Bride and Groom has supervised the weddings of some 2,500 couples to whom about 1,000 children have been born. The happy couples have included a Douglas Aircraft executive, two Medal of Honor winners, All-America athletes, an atom physicist, Phi Beta Kappas, a TV producer and Jinx Falkenburg's brother. To each of them went about $2,500 worth of loot. "We were passing out mink coats and deep freezers long before politicians ever thought of it," boasts M.C. Robert Paige.

"In Holy Macirony . . ." Last week Art Student Gwendolyn Bannister, 22, and Olympic Track Star Lee Calhoun, 24, were one of five couples joined together, as the show's prize blooper went, "in holy macirony." The ceremony opened with headlines screaming, TV MARRIAGE A PROBLEM, TRACK STAR'S DILEMMA. Calhoun's dilemma had been posed earlier by the Amateur Athletic Union, which charged him with "attempt to capitalize on athletic fame" and threatened his amateur standing. Cried Producer Roger Gimbel: "This is a terrible thing. The A.A.U. is intruding upon the pursuit of happiness." Gimbel also said the show would sue the A.A.U. if Calhoun lost his standing. Meanwhile, in a barnlike studio in the RCA Building, under a ceiling blanketed with klieg lights. Calhoun and his bride defied the A.A.U., as Floor Manager Mike Graham threw the cues. The congregation included about 25 tieless stagehands, a bewildered assortment of curiosity seekers, and 3,000,000 enraptured housewives. To the best man, the M.C. muttered: "Nervous or not, you have one grave responsibility. Here are two beautiful Keepsake wedding rings."

"The Next Prize ..." After the ceremony (performed by Lee's father, the Rev. Carrie Calhoun of the Evening Star Baptist Church of Gary, Ind.), the couple moved from the chapel set into the "reception room" with its artificial ivy, phony fireplace and tableload of shiny booty. The stagehands had already poured the Moet & Chandon champagne, and NBC had trundled in Jackie Robinson to greet the newlyweds. After some cued-in applause and plugs for Jackie (as an executive of Chock Full o' Nuts and publicity man for Look), there was a telegram from Floyd Patterson, also arranged by NBC: "All the world is in your corner." Then in rich, sepulchral tones, Announcer Paige chimed: "Today, just as at other weddings, it's traditional that gifts be given to the bride. This is the moment you've been waiting for. This Bell portable sewing machine, the world's finest. This gleaming Westinghouse freezer brings you beauty, convenience, economy. You'll be at your loveliest with a two-year supply of Tangee's Tropicana Orange lipstick. The next prize ... I mean gift," etc., etc. Then came the topper: "a special, never-to-be-forgotten present"--an Esther Williams swimming pool. The benediction: "This is the National Broadcasting television network." Afterward, burly stagehands struck the chapel set and carted off the china and silverware, leaving the guests to eat their wedding cake off paper towels.

Off-camera. Manager Graham fumed as outside news photographers elbowed his own cameramen for choice shots. Producer Gimbel exploded because a Dairy Queen station commercial that had been dropped three days earlier got squeezed onscreen by mistake. But Executive Producer John Reddy was happy about all the publicity because the show is only partly sponsored. Perhaps he should take the late Fred Allen's advice and "save money by ordaining the announcer."

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