The State of Marriage
Dorothy Dix, Senor del Toro and Gretna Green
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Release Date: September 6, 2024
Dorothy Dix
When popular newspaper columnist Dorothy Dix (aka Elizabeth Meriwether Gilmer) published her syndicated piece titled, “Marriage a Needless Gamble” in the early fall of 1927, she was preaching to the choir – and that choir included Aimee Henry and John Morecroft, SR, who were, at the time, involved in a nasty lawsuit over John’s Mexican divorce and subsequent marriage.
Dorothy was a member of that same choir: She and her husband, George Gilmer, had lived separate lives for much of their marriage due to his mental instability, financial unreliability and, by several accounts, unfaithfulness.
Although she doesn’t directly reference George in the piece, it’s hard to imagine Dorothy wasn’t thinking of her husband when she wrote:
No man or woman, for instance, would pay as much as $500 for a dog or a horse without looking up its pedigree and seeing what sort of family history it had. Nor would he or she buy an animal that cost that much without having a competent veterinary look it over carefully and see that it was free of disease and sound in wind and limb.
Yet a young man will go blithely forth and marry a girl because she has a peaches-and-cream complexion and a nice permanent wave in her hair, without ever making the effort to find out whether she is strong and healthy and has a heritage of good, clean blood, or whether she has some latent disease that will leave her an invalid on his hands in a few years...”
She went on:
No man or woman would buy a piece of property without investigating its title and finding out if it were clear of encumbrances. Yet men and women marry strangers without ever taking the trouble to look up the records of those whom they are taking for life companions.
Every day we read in the papers about worthy people who find that they have unwittingly married bigamists, or criminals, or adventurers. All know of broken-hearted men and women whose lives have been blasted and whose homes have been wrecked by the discovery of some dark episode in the past of their wives or husbands. 1
Dorothy actually had a lot to say about marriage that the Morecroft’s could relate to.
In 1926, likely around the time John met and began his relationship with Marion Traub Patterson, the young divorcee who would become his second wife, Dorothy had this to say in response to a bill introduced by the Ohio legislature to make home-wrecking a criminal act:
This would be a great law if it could be enforced. The idea of making husband and wife stealing a penal offense, instead of a parlor game, is a good one, and certainly no punishment could be devised severe enough to fit the crime of those who sow discord in the family circle and alienate from each other two hearts that beat as one.
But, the difficulty of dealing with the situation is that a home-wrecker is always an inside job. No husband or wife was ever yet stolen from his or her lawful mate who was not party to the crime, or, at the best, who was guilty of contributory negligence…
Sirens ply their arts in vain on a man who really cares for his wife. He is blind to their charms, deaf to their blandishments. It is only when he has ceased to love his wife, when he is tired of her, that he is in danger. Then he goes out and begins to look for temptation, looks for some woman to kidnap him, and any girl babe can turn the trick…
Dorothy didn’t place all the blame on the husband or even on the “siren”, however. She had plenty to say about the wife’s role in a husband’s infidelity, although, once again, her words didn’t exactly age well.
When a woman lets herself get sloppy and slouchy and disgusting to look at; when she is always whining and complaining about everything she has to do; when she is nothing but a bundle of nerves and temper; when she makes a home that is ill-kempt and untidy and sets a table that is first aid to dyspepsia, she moans the wrecking crew that lays her home in ruins and throws her husband into the arms of the nearest good-natured woman who has her hair combed and clean collar on. 2
Interestingly, it appears the idea of a wife being lured away by male sirens, or even simply no longer loving her husband, never crossed Dorothy’s mind, or at least never got as far as the nib of her pen. Perhaps due to her own situation, of which she once said, “If I had drawn back, or faltered [in my marriage], whatever power I might possess to help others would be lost. I could not aid them to be strong unless I were strong".
Señor del Toro
Mexican divorces were all the rage among New England's more affluent residents in the 1920s, largely because of a Mexican mine owner and rancher named Arturos del Toro. Born and raised across the Arizona border in the Mexican state of Sonora, del Toro looked at the skyrocketing divorce rate in America and saw nothing but opportunity.
Sonora, he declared, could replace Paris, France, and Reno, NV, as the IT place for wealthy Americans to get divorced — and both he and his state could get rich in the process.
After speaking with attorneys in New York and elsewhere, del Toro convinced the Sonora congress to enact a series of what he called "humane" divorce laws, which would make it quick and easy for Americans to get divorced. Then he set up swanky offices in Manhattan, ran newspaper ads in all the big city papers, and waited for the unhappily married to come to him.
And did they!
Between 1926 and 1930, an estimated 3,000 Mexican divorce decrees were issued to American citizens — mostly men eager to end one marriage and quickly jump into the next — hundreds of which were facilitated by the charismatic Sonora rancher.
According to him, the reason a Mexican divorce was so popular was clear:
"In the United States, divorce is often a disgraceful proceeding. Why? Because of the unpleasant complaints which one must make here in order to secure a decree. Often, entirely respectable couples who happen to live in a state like New York find themselves dragged into nasty scandals when they decide that they would be happier if not married. New York and a number of other states will not grant a divorce unless the husband or his wife will go on the stand and accuse the other of immoral conduct. Further, they are cruelly expected to furnish evidence as to the truth of their complaints." 4
By contrast, a Sonora divorce was discreet, confidential, and scandal-free — no witnesses, complaints, embarrassing questions or even accusations were required.
What was required, however, was cash. Del Toro's consulting fees alone could be as high as $10,000.
It's unknown where John got that kind of cash for his April 1928 Mexican divorce, or even where he obtained the divorce. Although Señor del Toro had popularized Sonora as the Mexican divorce capital for Americans, other Mexican states had similar schemes.
In Yucatan, for example, Americans could get mail-order divorces that one spouse could initiate without cause and without the other spouse's consent or even knowledge. The divorce decree simply arrived in the mail as a fete accompli. 5
Folks seeking an end to their marriage could shop around for specific terms they wanted — in some places, the filing spouse was automatically granted custody of children; in others, children over the age of eight could choose which parent they stayed with.
Some Mexican states awarded alimony, while others allowed the parties to come to financial agreements independently. In Sonora, for example, the so-called “guilty” spouse lost all benefits given or promised because of the marriage. In contrast, the spouse applying for the divorce got them all.
Some Mexican states decreed when the divorced parties could remarry — often the former husband could marry immediately, while his former wife was required to wait 300 days or more. And a few even forbid divorced women from using their former husbands' surnames.
With so many options available when it came to obtaining a Mexican divorce, it’s little wonder that determining which of these quickie divorce was legal and valid, and which were not was a challenge. Much depended on the divorce laws in the state where the previously-married couple had lived together as man and wife, and how willing the non-filing partner was to go through the expense, embarrassment and hassle of fighting back.
Gretna Green
One of the caveats that went along with obtaining a Mexican divorce, or really any quickie divorce, was that you should never get remarried in the same state twice. Doing so presented at least the potential issue of some clerk finding your name on two active marriage registries.
The solution, however, was pretty easy and often involved what was known as a Gretna Green wedding. Named after a small 18th century Scottish village which specialized in fuss-free and no-questions-asked marriages for visiting Brits, Gretna Green weddings gained popularity in America at about the same time as did Mexican divorces.
Go figure.
It’s not known if John and Marion had a Gretna Green wedding or if they went the more conventional route, however John’s Mexican divorce was granted sometime in April, he was already remarried by May, and no marriage record has been found, so it seems likely that’s what they did.
If so, there were plenty of options available to them, including the Gretna Green haven of Elkton, MD, some 140 miles south of the Morecroft family home in Palisade Park, NJ.
Located northeast of Baltimore and a short distance from Maryland’s borders with Virginia, Pennsylvania and Delaware, Elkton had been hosting stop-and-go weddings since as early as May of 1913. In 1920, a Baltimore reporter named Robert Garland made the 50-mile trip to Elkton to see what all the fuss about. What he found was that marriage was big business. 7
“The marriage mill is working overtime in Cecil’s county seat nowadays. Thirty-two catch-as-catch-can weddings in eight working hours is a recently established record in Maryland’s well-known Gretna Green. One marriage every 15 minutes isn’t bad for a town of something like 3000 people.”
And, although there were some in the community who turned up their noses at the traffic and commotion so many out-of-towners created, few could turn their backs on the money they generated.
“These hurry-up ceremonies bring $1 to the court, and average of 3 or 4 to the business-like clergyman who ties the hasty knot, and the same sum to the jitney men. Figure it out. 4300 weddings at $7 apiece for the community, over $30,000 per annum for Elktonians to enjoy.”
There were, Robert determined, three main reasons Elkton was such a popular wedding destination.
First off, Maryland had just one hoop couples had to jump through in order to get married: The groom needed to be 21 or older and the bride at least 16, a requirement that, according to Robert was easily met, given a little time.
“On several occasions a couple has been known to tell the truth and be refused a license. Then the chauffeur would suggest a ride to Chestertown, 30 miles away, and by the time the Kent County seat was reached the couple would have arrived at the required age.”
The second reason for Elkton’s popularity was its location on the rail line. Couples from nearby Pennsylvania, Delaware and Virginia, but also from other states up and down the east coast with more restrictive marriage laws could easily make a daytrip out of the wedding.
And the third reason was access. Although the courthouse was technically closed after 5 p.m., marriage licenses could be, and often were, issued at any time, day or night. A conservative estimate had nearly fifty percent of Elkton’s lucrative marriage business taking place after hours. 8
According to Robert, Elkton’s unofficial welcome slogan could well be, “Twelve minutes and a few dollars are all you need”.
Those 12 minutes started as soon as the train pulled into the station.
“No sooner had they stepped from the cars that the traffic in couples began. From behind the station, where dozen or more automobiles were drawn up side by side, came a din such as one seldom hears, shouts, and yells from rival and leather-lunged busmen. Nothing was overlooked that might attract attention and patronage. Horns blew, engines ran, an unmuffled motor added to the din. Pandemonium was loose.
“Drivers, white and black, fought for patronage until the unhappy couples knew not where to turn. Chauffeurs argued among themselves for customers; sums of money were bandied here and there.
Even before the train had time to leave the station, “hackmen and their cars had disappeared in the direction of Elkton’s lovely old courthouse, where H. Winfield Lewis, Clerk of the Circuit Court, and J.W. McAllister, deputy clerk, issue marriage licenses wholesale.”
The process of obtaining said licenses had apparently been refined over time to improve efficiency.
While the brides-to-be remained outside in the waiting cars, their bridegrooms lined up shoulder-to-shoulder along the Clerk’s counter, and took the necessary oath in unison. Then the clerk and his assistant went down the line, recording each man’s name, age, and hometown as well as the “supposed birthday of the girl outside”.
The rest was transactional. Payment was made, and the license was handed over.
Once they had their marriage license, the couple headed to the home of one of the two local clergymen who were willing to marry anyone with the proper documentation, Rev. George P. Jones of the Methodist Episcopal Church and Rev. W. R. Moon, a Baptist.
In 1920, Rev. Moon was the newcomer to Elkton, and not exactly welcome, at least according to Robert.
“Moon has been a sort of storm center since he arrived in Elkton. The other “marrying parsons” speak of him as a “squatter” on their preserves. He is said to have come from Norwood, MO, and is 63 years of age. He bought a farm nine miles out of town and commutes daily to his furnished room on Stockton Street, where he marries as many couples as come that way. There is no Baptist Church in Elkton, so matrimony is the only religious ceremony he is called upon to perform.”
Rev. Jones, by comparison, had been in Elkton for since 1915, and had married nearly as many locals as strangers.
Services lasted only as long as it took to recite the vows, say the “I dos” and kiss the bride.
Then the newlyweds returned to the station and took the next train home as man and wife.
Win for them, and win for Maryland’s most popular, and profitable, Gretna Green wedding destination.
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Copyright 2024 Lori Olson White
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Chapter Endnotes
1 “Marriage a Needless Gamble”, The Shreveport Journal, Shreveport, LA, August 26, 1927, P. 6
2 “Homes Broken Only by Those Who Let Love Fly Out The Window”, The South Bend Tribune, South bend, IN, December 5, 1926, P. 35.
3 "Dorothy Dix, Mother Confessor to the World, Confesses" New York Evening Journal
4 “A Divorce for Anyone in Three Days,” Detroit Times, Detroit, MI, January 31, 1926, p. 1.
5 Lindell T Bates, “The Divorce of Americans in Mexico”, American Bar Association Journal, V 13, N 11, November 1929, P. 709-713.
6 “Homes Broken Only by Those Who Let Love Fly Out The Window”, The South Bend Tribune, South bend, IN, December 5, 1926, P. 35.
7 “Commercialized Marriage Mart. Law Makes Profitable Business Out of Sacred Thing,” The Midland Journal, Rising Sun, MD, February 13, 1920, P.1.
8 “Elkton Loses Out As Gretna Green: Marriage License Clerk Now Closes Office at 5 P.M.” The Baltimore sun, Baltimore, MD, January 10, 1927, P.5
My mother got a Mexican divorce as late as the 1950s. And my grandparents married in Elkton in 1929…. I’m glad for all this historical context, Lori!
Such a compelling post! I didn't know about this history of 'marriage as business' in Elkton or the origin and history of the Mexican divorce.