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Stick a fork in them: 50 years after their wedding, this couple gets its last gift

Perspective by
Columnist
November 12, 2019 at 2:14 p.m. EST
Ken Stein, owner of Benson’s Jewelers, left, with Cathy and George Jones of Pasadena, Md. The Joneses received a gift certificate at their November 1969 wedding for a Stieff silverware place setting from Benson’s, but didn’t redeem it for 50 years. (John Kelly/The Washington Post)

On Nov. 8, 1969, Cathy Swindell and George Jones got married. On Monday, they went to Benson’s Jewelers on F Street NW to collect what surely must be their last wedding present: a silver knife, fork and spoon in Stieff’s “Rose” pattern.

“She picked out the pattern before we even knew each other,” said George.

“I’m not into modern,” Cathy said.

“That’s why she picked me,” said George. “I’m seven years older than her.”

Cathy said that’s what teenage girls did back then, at least teenage girls like her, who had an older sister: They decided on a silver pattern.

Cathy, 70, received the occasional fork and spoon for birthdays and graduation. Then when she and George got married, her then-boss at the National Security Agency — C. Otto Rasmussen — gave the couple a certificate for a three-piece place setting, redeemable at Benson’s.

But the Joneses lived in Pasadena, Md., past Annapolis, and Washington seemed as distant as Pluto. So they just stuck the certificate in their wedding album. Then a few weeks ago, George got in touch with Benson’s owner, Ken Stein, and asked whether he’d honor the 50-year-old certificate.

“I did it more out of — I won’t say humor — more out of curiosity,” said George, 77.

But Ken was kind of into the idea. He figured it would set him back about $150 but it might provide some karma and, to be honest, some publicity. Both are good to have when you’re an independent retailer trying to compete against the web and survive in a pricey downtown location.

These days, said George, everything has an expiration date. Wait too long to cash a check, and you’re out of luck. But here was the couple’s shiny place setting, rounding out a collection they pull out only for special occasions.

When are you next going to use them, I asked.

“Tonight,” George said.

“We’re having shrimp salad,” said Cathy. “It’s not too special, but it’s what we’re having.”

Nothing can hold Houdini

I had lunch last week with Joe Posnanski, author of a new book called “The Life and Afterlife of Harry Houdini.”

We chose the Old Ebbitt Grill downtown because the building used to be home to Keith’s, a vaudeville house where Houdini often performed. In January 1922, the magician promoted that week’s show by dangling upside down in a straitjacket outside the theater, five stories above 15th Street.

Houdini was a regular in Washington. In 1906, he escaped from the jail cell that had once held presidential assassin Charles Guiteau. In 1916, he hung in a straitjacket from the Munsey Building at 13th and Pennsylvania NW, attracting 15,000 gawkers, at the time the largest crowd to gather in Washington for any reason other than a presidential inauguration.

At least, that’s what the Washington Times reported. The paper had hyped the stunt in the days leading up to it and afterward ran an ad that read: “It was a splendid compliment to Houdini — remember, the President was booked for Capitol Hill at the same hour — and a tremendous compliment to the pulling power of the Evening Times.”

Later, Houdini testified before Congress to debunk phony spiritualists, which is to say, spiritualists.

Joe, 52, lives in Charlotte. He’s a senior writer at sports website the Athletic and the author of sports books, including a best-selling biography of Joe Paterno. He switched gears for his new book, which he says is about “wonder”: How was it that one man could transfix the world in a time before radio and television — and transfixes it still?

Houdini was a tireless self-promoter and, like all good illusionists, a liar. He was born Erik Weisz in Budapest, the son of a rabbi who moved the family to America. To his dying day, he insisted he was born in Appleton, Wis.

Houdini created his own reality, then invited others to live in it. Before Houdini, Joe said, no one knew what a straitjacket was — or that to struggle out of one was meant to be an impressive feat.

Joe feels that Houdini, as someone for whom the truth was ever malleable, is relevant to today’s official Washington. The escapologist was relentless in fighting anyone who challenged him, slighted him, doubted him.

When Joe saw Donald Trump’s Sharpie-altered hurricane map, his first thought was: “That’s so Houdini.”

Said Joe: “Inventing yourself is the ultimate politician’s trick.” So is, he said, the ability to wriggle out of anything.

Helping Hand

Pondering making a charitable contribution this holiday but aren’t sure where to give? Allow me to suggest The Washington Post Helping Hand.

It’s not a charity itself. It’s our campaign to introduce readers to three worthy groups: Bright Beginnings, N Street Village and So Others Might Eat. If you visit posthelpinghand.com, you can read about these charities and how they serve some of the most vulnerable of our fellow residents. To make a gift, just click “Donate.”

Twitter: @johnkelly

For previous columns, visit washingtonpost.com/john-kelly.