Chapter 1 - Marriage Is Serious Business

The last words of the wedding ceremony have been spoken. There is a temporary hush. Then the organ peals forth— clearly, joyously. The happy couple march down the aisle, the bride proudly clutching the arm of the groom. All eyes are turned on them—a few are dimmed with tears. Outside, a car is waiting, which whisks them to the reception that follows. Here there is much laughter, gaiety, eating, and drinking. The bride is flushed with excitement, radiant with happiness. The groom looks at her adoringly, in between distractions from well-wishers. Then later they manage to disappear, perhaps only temporarily. At last, they are started on their honeymoon.

This, their wedding day, marks the beginning of a new life, for both. They are leaving their families—the fathers and mothers who reared them, the brothers and sisters who confided in them and who fought and played with them—and are forming a new family. Because they are in love, they are looking forward to a life of happiness together. They are not going to be like some other couples they have known who were not happy. And there are so many things to which to look forward —their new home, children, a new car. All this will mean increased responsibilities; but because they have each other, and are happy, they will help and strengthen each other. What was it they pledged—for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part? Thus they would develop and measure up to their responsibilities.

Each year, in the United States, more than three million men and women pass through some such experience when they marry. Some are married in church with elaborate ceremonies and much social gaiety; others are married in their own homes, or in the home of a pastor, or the office of a civil official, or the chaplain in a far-off military post. Most of them, about four out of every five, are marrying for the first time. An even larger proportion are quite young, as the years go. We Americans are the most married, and the youngest married, people in the world. Seldom in human history have the young people of a great nation given themselves with more abandon to the marriage state; seldom has marriage been entered into with such high hope and expectations as among American youth. In fact, many contemporary Americans believe that the individual has an inalienable right to happiness in marriage.

Marriage Is Serious Business

Marriage, however, means more than the gala festivities of the wedding day or the round of social functions that may follow it. Just as graduation from school is rightly termed commencement in the life-learning process, so marriage is a beginning, rather than an end. Marriage is serious business, particularly around Boston, John Marquand once wrote, and so far as marriage is concerned all of us live around Boston.

Why is this so? Mainly because it brings together in close and continuing contact two people in life's most intimate relationship. Step aside, if you will, and look at marriage as a problem in personal relationships. Here are two people of opposite sex, usually young and often quite inexperienced, born with differing traits, reared in different homes, molded by different influences, accustomed to their own ways of living and thinking, having developed varying habits and tastes and needs, who come together on some designated day to begin a lifelong existence together. Does any other human experiment really compare with this?

Moreover, while living together, their relationship becomes incidental to a host of other responsibilities which each must now assume. The husband must secure and hold a job. Furthermore, he is expected to advance himself and take a respected place in a rugged and competing world. In addition to being a sober, reliable, and efficient worker, a go-getter who will provide adequately for his wife and children, he is to be a pleasant companion and a satisfactory lover for his wife, a wise and patient parent, and possess social graces of which his wife, children, and in-laws can be proud.

The wife, on her part, may also be a wage-earner in the workaday world. In addition, she is expected to do a great many other things. It really is remarkable to enumerate all that is demanded of the modern wife. She is to be a satisfactory companion and sexual mate to her husband, to bear and rear the children, to manage a household, to drive a car, to maintain with propriety the family's social contacts, and at all times to make an acceptable appearance so that her husband, children, and in-laws will be pleased to identify her as their own. En route, she is to be versed in first-aid lore if the children are hurt; to be a competent nurse when they are ill; to be an expert in diets; to have the knowledge of an interior decorator sufficient to make the home a proper symbol of and setting for the family's life; and to be not only a judge of proper clothing but to know enough so as to expend the family income wisely and to such good advantage that the neighboring women will not make unkind comments. Small wonder that, for many married women, leisure is but the opportunity to do something else.

I It is clear, then, that married life is bound by its very nature to create problems, that even in the happiest families there is need for some adjustments to be worked out. Marital problems of one kind or another are as old as human history. Through all the ages, there have been wifely shrews who have needed to be tamed, husbands who have philandered, and marital partners of both sexes who have endured the agonies of abuse, unfaithfulness, and unrequited love. Family relations in many ways constitute perennial problems, as the history of art, literature, law, and religion so clearly shows. Marital unhappiness is neither new nor unnatural. Marriage has always been serious business, and everywhere.

How Do Marriages Turn Out?

Between the high hopes of happiness on the one hand with which most marriages begin, and the prosaic realities of married life on the other, how do marriages work out? Obviously, each one has its own detailed history, but an over-all look shows five types most commonly found. We shall present a case illustrating each of these types.

1. For many young couples, the romance of courtship and the festive joy of the wedding day are followed by years of contented family living. A home of which they are proud, children who bring joy and satisfaction, understanding and love of each other develop through the years that follow. Such was the experience of Ralph and Barbara. They were married in their mid-twenties, and six sons were born to them in the next twelve years. To say they had no problems in their married life would be untrue; the important thing was that they met and overcame them together. Both were strong-willed and determined persons. Because strength respects strength, and because they loved each other, each sought to understand the opinions of the other whenever any difference arose. "Barbara must have some good reason for thinking as she does, Ralph would say. It helped, of course, that they came out of family backgrounds much alike, they had common interests, they accepted the same life-values Ralph counseled with Barbara about all important problems in his work; Barbara talked over household and child-rearing questions with Ralph. Again, it was a happy result of their common backgrounds that they wanted the same things for their sons. Through the years, Ralph would say to Barbara: "I love you more each day," and Barbara would smile the contented smile of a woman, loving and well loved.
2. There are other marriages which lack the deep mutual love of Ralph and Barbara but work out successfully through the years. This was the case with Edward and Janice. Janice met Edward about six months after her engagement to another boy had been broken. How long she "carried the torch" for this other boy, only she knew, but it may well have been for some time. Edward had played around with many girls, without meeting the exactly right one. He and Janice were married, perhaps each originally having but one foot in the door of their common venture. Whatever their secret motives for marrying each other, once the thing was done each settled down to make a go of it. Twenty years later, they had an attractive home and three well-reared children. To their friends, they were known as a devoted couple. Perhaps the unifying bond in their marriage was a sincere mutual respect for each other. Janice never spoke of her love for her husband, but her respect for his abilities and her appreciation of his qualities as a provider, a husband, and a father were quite evident. Edward, secure in his occupational advancement, frequently spoke of Janice's excellent homemaking qualities, and the fine job she had done in rearing the children. Here, in other words, were two people who worked out a satisfactory marital relationship through the years on the basis of mutual respect for each other's qualities.
3. A third group includes those marriages which are not happy but whose unhappiness and tensions never reach a climax in desertion, separation, or divorce. They just go on being unhappy. This was the case with George and Helen. George was the star halfback on his high school football team.

He was what some girls termed "one hunk of man." In addition, he was well liked socially and was a fairly good student. Helen, his classmate, was an attractive blonde, physically active, mentally alert, and socially a go-getter. The second year after their graduation, George and Helen were married. Their wedding was quite an event. Classmates marrying, a high school romance, a football hero—the local papers played it up big.

The next few years were happy ones. George had a good job, Helen was described as the kind of girl who was a big help to her husband socially. The third year there was a baby. Both parents and their parents, in turn, were delighted. George got a promotion at work. Then changes began to appear. George was still a high school athlete at heart. He spent many afternoons at the school athletic field. Most of his friends were former football players. He played in a few semiprofessional games, chiefly for the pleasure of it. Helen, engrossed with the baby and her social activities, was less than enthusiastic about these interests of George. She tried to stimulate his business ambitions. Look at the Suttons, she would say. He is second assistant to the vice-president of his company. And they just bought a new car. Usually such arguments led to discussions about what each wanted out of life.

At first no larger than a man's hand, these discussions grew and grew. The more Helen argued, the more George sought the solace of his old gridiron buddies. Helen, fresh from some afternoon social event, would renew her attacks. Then George would make excuses to go out at night. Helen visited with her folks, and repeated her arguments to them. These ears were more attentive. George wasn't a go-getter, certainly not like Bill Sutton, they agreed. Helen returned home, often to resume the discussions that same night.

It has been more than ten years since these arguments about what each "wants out of life" began. There have been few explosions—only a continued festering. Recently George has taken to drinking, moderately, as though to deaden a pain. Helen is talking a great deal about a Mr. Orton, a widower who is general manager at the plant where George works. Mrs. Hinkle, who lives across the street, says there is more to this than meets the eye.

4. Fourth are the marriages where, after a period of unhappiness, one mate selects the solution of desertion. This happened to Ellwood and Mary. Ellwood was a hesitant, confused lad of twenty, the only child of upper-middle-class parents. He had difficulty making friends, stayed at home, read a great deal, and depended upon his parents for many decisions related to his daily life. Mary, a lower-class Irish Catholic girl, the eldest of eight children, seemed to have seen in this boy, whom she met at a school alumni dance, someone to mother, as she did her younger brothers and sisters. Ellwood quickly responded to Mary's warmhearted solicitousness, their relationship ripened into love, and, in the face of the opposition of both families, they were married.

Mary had five children in five years and thought it was wonderful. She made no secret of the fact that she expected several more. She blossomed physically, and inwardly glowed with a sense of life's and God's goodness to her. Ellwood, on the other hand, was overwhelmed by all this. Before the first, and again before the third, child was born, he left Mary temporarily and went home to live with his parents. His own family experience had led him to plan ahead—for the education and clothing of his children. As the number of his own children increased, his worries grew correspondingly. His parents agreed with and encouraged his concern. To Mary, problems of a growing family were the substance of family life. She had grown up with them, and somehow things had worked out.

Several months after the arrival of the fifth child, Ellwood left Mary and returned permanently to the home of his parents. A number of years have passed since. Ellwood, dreading the publicity of divorce, has taken no legal steps. Mary, accepting the teaching of her church, has made no move to end her marriage. She still regards Ellwood as her husband.

5. Finally, there are those many marriages which, sooner or later, terminate in divorce. Consider the case of Bill and Betty. Bill usually was the life of the party. Blessed with a keen sense of humor and a ready tongue, he made the kind of party fun that seemed to leave everyone with at least a chuckle and with nary a sting of unpleasantness. One can easily understand why Betty was attracted to him, for she was shy and not the easy mixer that Bill was. Theirs was a case of attraction through complementary needs, as Robert Winch, the sociologist, calls it. Betty found in Bill the easy, happy socializing which she lacked; Bill found Betty a genuinely appreciative audience. Their marriage was a popular social event in their set. Everybody knew Bill and liked him, and no one disliked Betty.

Shortly after their wedding, Betty and her mother went to a physician for contraceptive aid. She explained to Bill that she thought it best to delay "having a family" until they were established. Meanwhile Bill, a salesman, devoted himself to making good, and in this he succeeded, with steadily increased sales' commissions.

The third year of their marriage, Bill began raising the subject of having a child, but Betty still insisted that the time was "not yet." Next, Bill began to notice the extreme and calculated care on the part of Betty in their sex relations lest pregnancy follow. Three years followed. Bill, who came from a family of five children, wanted children of his own; Betty, an only child, pleaded for still further postponement. Each month her mother told her how happy she was that Betty was not having a child, that childbirth was a horrible physical ordeal, as she knew from her own experience. Also, she told Betty that it would embarrass her to be called a grandmother. Meanwhile, Bill became increasingly aware of other couples his own age who had children of their own. Bill saw the happiness that other men found with their children. Then came a day, at a summer outing, when he walked some distance behind a widow with two children. In the days that followed, that picture remained etched in his mind—a mother and her children. He kept on thinking about it. And then he would look at Betty.

After their divorce, Bill married the widow, and they had two children of their own.

We have told briefly the story of ten young people with whose marital experience we have been familiar over a period of years. All of them are normal, likable people—the kind we contact every day. All of them married after an extended acquaintance and courtship, with full hope of happiness in marriage, and, in each case, making an effort over a period of time to achieve it. None of these cases, it will be observed, was of another kind of marriage in which a schedule of courtship, marriage, separation, and divorce follows within a two- or three-year period. Two of the five couples found happiness in their marriages; one festered uncertainly through the years; in one case, there was desertion and separation, at least for the time being; and one couple turned to the courts to release them legally from their marriage vows.

The American Family Record

Turning now from the individual cases which illustrate these main types of marriage outcome, how important is each in terms of the married population of the United States as a whole? What is the American family record, and how does it compare with that of other countries?

Measured by any one of several yardsticks, our rate of marital failure is appallingly high. Let us begin with our divorce statistics. Currently, the annual toll of divorces and annulments approaches 400,000. In recent years, the annual number of reported divorces has ranged between one-fourth and one-third of the total number of marriages consummated in the corresponding year; in selected cities, the number at times has equaled or exceeded one-half of the total. These statements are based on the number of reported divorces. As everyone familiar with the facts knows, the reporting of divorces is still incomplete; the actual number, therefore, is larger than the reported one.

A comparison of our record with that of other countries is revealing. Approximately one-half of all divorces reported in the world each year are granted in the United States. Selecting a year at mid-century (1950), the United States, with 381,000 reported divorces, exceeded by 235,000 the total number granted in Canada, England, Wales, France, West Germany, Yugoslavia, Sweden, Switzerland, and Japan. In other words, the United States, with a population three-fifths as large as the combined total for the countries just named, granted one and three-fifths times as many divorces as they did. Or, making the comparison on the basis of the number of divorces for that year per 1,000 married couples, the rate for the United States was 10.4, as compared with 1.7 for Canada, 2.8 for England and Wales, 4.2 for Switzerland, 4.9 for France and Sweden, 5.3 for West Germany, and 6.4 for Yugoslavia and Japan.

It is interesting to note that a British Royal Commission, studying the question of marriage and divorce, reported in 1956 that unless the trend toward divorces was checked "there is real danger that the conception of marriage as a lifelong union may be abandoned." With an annual rate of 2.8 divorces per 1,000 married couples, and such a dire prediction, it is alarming to speculate what such a Commission would forecast with the American rate of 10.4.

Divorce, as we have already pointed out, is but one index of the larger problem of marriage failure. There are the couples who separate, legally or by common consent. A total of 1,700,000 persons was reported separated because of marital discord, in a report in 1951 by the United States Bureau of the Census. This number includes legal separations, persons living apart with intention of obtaining a divorce, and other persons temporarily estranged from their spouses.

Much marital unhappiness, however, does not reach the drastic stages of divorce, separation, or desertion. These are the married couples who, like George and Helen, are not happy but who stay together. How many such persons are there? Obviously, no one knows. There are, however, straws which indicate the way the wind is blowing. Recently we secured ratings of marital happiness for 440 married persons from their brothers or sisters. Of these, one out of eight (13.6 per cent) was identified definitely as unhappy, and another 15 per cent as of medium happiness. Another study of 526 couples, made some years ago by E. W. Burgess and Leonard S. Cottrell, showed 21.5 per cent were unhappy and 14.4 per cent were of only medium happiness. A larger study in rating, by R. O. Lang, and including 8,263 couples, showed 15.8 per cent unhappy and 19.2 per cent of medium happiness. Finally, there are the conclusions of Paul Popenoe, based on tabulations of nearly 20,000 marriages, which showed consistently that from 25 to 40 per cent of couples married five or more years were regarded by those who knew them well as not happy. It should be added that all of these studies are based chiefly upon marriages in the educated part of the population. The reader will make his own inferences concerning the significance of this fact.

When one combines the data on divorce, annulments, desertions, separations, and reported unhappiness among couples living together, the proportion of family discord is amazing. At any one moment, certainly one out of every three, and possibly one out of every two, couples is chafing at the domestic bit. Apparently that American know-how that has given us priority in material achievement throughout the world does not extend to the area of family living.

Marriage Failure Is Serious Business, Too

Appalling as our national record in marriage is, its meaning in terms of specific items is often lost in the impersonal summaries of its enormity. But these costs have been spelled out in a number of concrete studies, and their variety as well as their tragic nature are staggering. We can only make a partial listing of these costs here.

To the individual man and wife, failure in marriage means failure in one of life's major undertakings. And it is a failure that can seldom be kept a secret. Desertion and separation publicly reveal it; divorce legally establishes it. What such failure means depends in part upon the way the individual faces up to failure, and in part, and often in very large part, on what the attitudes of other people are. Malice may rear its ugly head, perhaps in an oblique way, to injure further the person already hurt. A French philosopher once expressed the ""Essence of this when he said: "There is something in the misfortunes of our best friends which does not altogether displease us." One's acquaintances will take sides and express blame or support. Reputations suffer. Professional men and women are particularly susceptible in this respect. Old friendships may be terminated. Embarrassing meetings may occur, to be avoided in the future. Other unhappily married persons may envy you the courage and solution of the step you have taken. There may be feelings of guilt, there may be religious qualms. Few, if any, persons pass through marital failure without deep psychological scars. Often these are permanent. Sometimes they never heal. In the eight years from 1946 to 1953, about seven million American mates passed through the crucial experience of divorce alone.

In addition to husbands and wives, children are the innocent and helpless victims in many of these cases. Their home life is disturbed. They may be kicked from pillar to post and back again. One mate may take out on the children hatred of the other mate. Emotional, and often economic, insecurity results.

Such children feel that they are not like other children, and indeed they are not. They may be separated from a parent they love and assigned to a lesser emotional anchorage. Through a process of something like emotional contagion, the unhappiness of a parent is transferred to the child. "My God, but I'm nervous today," said a three-year-old boy, as he paced around the room with his hands behind his back. His mother's case was up in divorce court that afternoon.

Multiplied millions of times over, what happens to one marriage becomes important for society as a whole. Many aspects of our social life are involved—our courts and other legal machinery, our laws and how they are regarded, the problems of family maintenance and support, the care of children, the reduced job efficiency of many persons, the moral conduct of the persons involved, their attitudes toward others and themselves—these are some of the more obvious items in the social cost of marital failure. It is clear that what happens to the family and its members happens to society at large. Family life does not exist in a vacuum. Family and society each are but an approach to the other. The life of society flows through the family and molds it; the family, acting as a funnel or bottleneck, colors the life of society. Every society is as strong as its family life is stable—this is one of the lessons of the centuries. Only the person who is impatient with the reading of the minutes of the last meeting will not heed.

Finally, there is the importance of family life in our contemporary international relations. We might as well face up to the fact that the modern world has become a struggle to the death between two giants—Russia and the United States. This struggle is far more than one of competing military arms. Competition between their economic systems is in full force. Russian advances in technology have awakened Americans to the scientific side of the struggle. But there are other aspects. Basically the struggle is one between two cultural systems, two ways of life, two sets of values.

In competing for the cooperation of the rest of the world, the nonmilitary aspects of the struggle are very vital. The longer the struggle, the more important they become; and family life is one of the most important of these nonmilitary aspects. Many of the countries whose good will we court are very old countries. They have developed their own family systems, some with high standards of family behavior and stability. They will not regard lightly gross lapses from such standards on our part. Our family life is as much on the spot as our atomic missiles.

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